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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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II II' 



GLIMPSES 



OF 



NEW-YORK CITY. 



BY 



A SOUTH CAROLINIAN, 

(who HAT) NOTUIXG ELSK TO DO.) 



A chiel's amang ye takin' notes, 
An' faith he'll i^rent it." 




CHAKLESTON: 
PUBLISHED BY J. J. MCCARTER 



M.DCCC.LII. 



.(t 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
WILLIAM M. BOBO, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of South CaroH 



Fixf 
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gtiririitijaK 



Jewach, S. C, August ISth, 1852. 
My Dear Colonel: 

The high opinion I entertain of your moral worth as a man, your noble and generous 
bearing as a gentleman, your attainments as a scholar, the proficiency to which you have 
arrived in your profession, your ardent devotion to the South, and of the interest you 
manifest in promoting her literature, together with a long and cherished friendship, sustain 
me in tendering to you the following pages, as a humble offering of the appreciation which 
I have of these rare and inestimable characteristics that so much adorn our nature. 

Tour incorrigible pertinacity to remain within the comfortless confines of Bachelor's 
Island, and your acknowledged financial abilities, are further inducements for me to place 
this, my Jirst 'born, imder your supervision and maintenance; first, because I desire to 
relieve you from that cheerless and monotonous solitude which pervades your locale, by 
Intruding this " prattling brat ;" secondly, I believe it is according to Divine Law, that 
tlinse who have none of their own, should assist in supporting the children of others, else 
why say, ^'■ufito everyone which hath shall he given ; and from him that hath not, 
even that he hath shall he taken away." (T can see no other interpretation— can you ?) 

However, knowing that you have the charity to overlook, not only the irregularities 
and imperfections you may detect in the offspring, but the incongruities and inconsist- 
encies known in the parent, it is with a full conviction that you will give the child a 
kind and hospitable reception, that I subscribe myself, as ever. 

Yours, 

THE AUTHOR. 
Col. M. Thompson, Washington City, D, 0. 



PREFACE 



" Without all fear, without presumption, he 
Who wrote this work would speak concerning it 
A few brief words, and facing his friend the world, 
Revising, not reversing, what hath been." 



Festus. 



Having transmitted the last line of MS. to the compositor, I was quietly and contentedly- 
enjoying myself in my room, enveloped in cigar smoke, and the consolation that for once, 
" a poor man's labor was done," when a messenger aroused me from the delicious reverie 
with the intelligence from Mr. * * * * that " there was no Preface." I very composedly 
and politely, as well as digniftedly and independently replied that that was no news, and I 
did not intend to have any. But a few moments elapsed — I had hardly assumed my origi- 
nal position before the return of the minister of legation informed me that Mr. * * * * g^id 
"a book was not a book without a prefoce." ' , 

This hypothesis I did not wish to discuss (particularly then), especially metaphysically, 
so I said, tell Mr. * * * * jf he wanted one more than I did, to write it himself That's the 
way to get rid of small matters, thinks I to myself, letting off a volley of smoke that would 
have suffocated a Dutch Burgomaster, and squaring myself for a snooze. 

Again my tormentor returned, and reported that Mr. * * * * said he " was not an Au- 
thor, but a Publisher, and could or would not," I did not understand which ; either was 
enough to upset my composure. What was to be done ? muttered I. Two horns to the 
dilemma presented themselves — to submit to the bore of writing a preface or have my 
labors knocked into pi. Either was bad enough ; of the two I chose the former. Here 
another horn '■'■ stuck out a feety What was a preface ? This, however, was soon solved; 
turning to " Webster," I found that a preface was " a preface.'''' Tell Mr. * * * *^ gaid I, 
rather impetuously, that I " give in," and that he shall have one by to-morrow morning. 

Hang that chap, I am clear of him at last, and I can now finish my nap. But no, in 
a twinkling the confounded fellow returned with, Mr. * * * * gays be must have it imme- 
diately — the hands are waiting." Clear out, you imp, stormed I, and he did, with the 
hoot-jack after him. Well, thought I, "give a man an inch and lie will take an ell," and I 
commenced humming my favorite air, " A Poor Man's Labor is Never Done." So here 
goes. 

According, then, to custom I must give a preface to my Glimpses, and will, if to satisfy 
only Mr. * * * *, who is a very worthy man. 

During my summer rambling this season, I was much alone, and had ample time for 
reflecting upon what I had been showing and telling my friend while in New- York, and for 



b PREFACE. 

want of something better to do, gathered up the scintillations which fell from my brain 
into a trencher (book), and now distribute them to those who will "come and buy." 

To speak fully of New England and her people, would require a book as large as Scott's 
Napoleon ; but I will sum it up in a very few words — dollars and cents. While tlie work 
of printing my book was progressing, I took occasion to show the proof sheets of the Chap- 
ter upon Hotels to those whom I had complimented. One smiled, a second grinned, a 
third chuckled, a fourth grunted, a fifth said, "a penny for all your compliments," a sixth 
said, " we'll help you sell your book — may take a copy," a seventh asked me to take a glass 
of wine {knowing I was a '■'teetotaler'"), an eighth said, "I'm too busy now, drop in again.'' 
One of the proprietors of one of the lesser hotels presented me with a pen with which I 
might write another notice (doubtless needing one), and for fear it would wear out, it was 
gold, and cost at least $3,50. May he live a thousand years, and then get a release of his 
life ! But to my preface. 

I intended to have the work embellished with several engravings, to wit : Mr. Collins, 
Mr. Bennett, Coleman &, Stetson, Forrest, and a few others. Mr. Collins said he never 
permitted such liberties; Mr. Bennett said if he commenced sitting for his picture he would 
have to keep it up, and too much time would be taken away from his business. Mr. Stet- 
son told the engraver he would not sit for his daguerreotype for $500,000 — that being more 
money than I had on hand, I asked Mr. * * * * if lie would not wait a few hours till I could 
raise tlie amount, which I might have done had he consented to wait; but, alas, who ever 
stopped a printer? As for Mr. Coleman, I could not think of separating Castor & Pollux, 
therefore did not ask. Mr. Forrest polite'y declined the "soft impeachment." Mr. San- 
ders I could not keep still long enough to get a picture, and Mr. Few Othcs I gave up in 
despair, consequently the world (if my book does not go upon its merits to the four corners 
of the earth, I'll put a copy into my pocket and take it there myself) has lost, for the pre- 
sent, a sight of these worthies in a book. 

Should the work "take," doubtless these gentlemen may ask admission, and send their 
phizes "cut and dried" for the second edition, if so tlwy shall be gratified, as no picture of 
New- York is complete withoi;t them. 

As for Colonel Tliompson, wliose " picture " does appear, I asked no favors. I had one 
of him which he gave me years ago, and used it nolens volens. What he will say when 
he sees his reflection inside the leaves of a book I know not, and what is more, I care less. 
"The Chesterfield of King-street " is a self-made man, and deserves a compliment, and this 
is the best I can do for him— although he may have the worst of the bargain. 

In writing and publisliing this work. I have pleased one man — myself— if no one else. 
This is as much as I could reasonably expect; and now I launch it upon the billowy ocean 
of public opinion, with Truth for a figure-head, Justice for ballast, and my blessing for a 
prosperous voyage. 

Note.— The reader will observe that in the chapter upon hotels, I have not mentioned the "Irvinjj House," 
and also m the chapter on the press, " The Times," and " Tribune," have not been noticed. The reason is, what 
I said about those neglected gems, that the printer would not print it for fear the caustic contaLued therein would 
eat out the page on which it was printed, and consequently spoil the book. 

Inadvertency (absence) caused the neglect of that worthy paper tho "Herald of the Union," which is ably 
conducted, and I beg furgiveness for not ranking it in its appropriate place. 



CONTENTS 



CHAP. I.— New-York Citt 

CHAP. II. — Greenwood Cemetery 

CHAP. III.— Theatres . 

CHAP. IV.— Eambles over Town 

CHAP, v.— Wall-street 

CHAP. VI.— Third Avenue . 

CHAP. VII.— The Abbey 

CHAP. VIII.— Hudson Eiver 

CHAP. IX.— The Press 

CHAP. X.-Shlpping 

CHAP. XL— Hotels 

CHAP. XII.— Five Pointo 

CHAP. Xni.— The Tombs 

CHAP. XIV.— Sewing Girls . 

CHAP. XV. — Chatham-street 

CHAP. XVI.— West Broadway 

CHAP. XVII.— The Markets 

CHAP. XVIII. — Manners, Habit6, and Customs 

CHAP. XIX. — Eestaurants, etc. . 

CHAP. XX.— Taylor's Saloon 

CHAP. XXL— The Bowery 

CHAP. XXL. — Avenuedles . 



PAOB 
9 

17 
25 
82 
89 
45 
51 
57 
66 
73 



100 

lor 

115 
123 
131 
137 
146 
153 
160 
168 



}S CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAP. XXIII.— P.UIKS, ETC. .... . 178 

CHAP. XXIV.— Servaxt Giei^ . . . .187 

CHAP. XXV.— Station Hougss . . . ... 195 

CHAP. XXVI.— Artists— Native axd Foreign . . .202 

CHAP. XXVII.— OcEAX Steamsttips . . . .210 

CHAP. XXVIII.— Conclusion .... 214 



GLIMPSES AT NEW-YORK. 



CHAPTER I. 

N E W - Y O R K CITY. 

" As the eyes of the South are turned anxiously upon the 
North, it may not prove uninteresting to your neighbors,, 
when you return, to give them an idea of what you saw and 
heard while in New-York. Being a member of the Legis- 
lature, they will expect it, and if you fail to do so, w^ould set 
it down that you have not been here at all, or cannot^ which 
is infinitely worse. How then can you tell any thing about 
these northern people without first seeing them ? So I pro- 
pose to act as your cicerone while you remain in the city, if 
agreeable." 

" Certainly, I am glad to meet with one who is ' posted 
up,' and has the leisure to accompany me through the city, 
as I am an entire stranger," returned my friend, Colonel 
Hammond, of South Carolina. 

" Well, sir, having more time than money ^ will take great 
pleasure in conducting you to the various places of interest 
which are to be seen hereabouts, and I fancy that I know 
something of the city." 
1* 



10 NEW-YORK CITY. 

" Thank you, thank you." 

"Well, go to your room, and then get a clean receipt 
from a Professor of the Tonsorial Institute, and I am at your 
service." 

" I now place myself in your hands ; do with me as you 
think proper," said my friend, on returning. 

" You are back sooner than I expected." 

" A short horse is soon curried, you know, and I am not 
much addicted to di^essJ' 

" In order that you may get the true meridian, we will 
stand about the steps of the Astor, here, and take a glimpse 
at what presents itself for awhile. 

" New- York City is the focus, around which the balance 
of the cities of the United States radiate, and all contribute 
a due proportion to its greatness and its wealth. 

" A stranger, like yourself, during his first visit here, has 
many things to see and hear, most of which he does not 
really understand, but once behind the curtains, all the mys- 
tery vanishes like fog before a morning sun. My entrance 
into New- York reminded me of the joyous schoolboy days 
which I spent in the land of my fathers, when all was peace 
and joy, when the future looked like a gilded landscape 
before me ; but, alas ! they are gone, and with them that 
beautiful picture ; and oh ! what a rough and uncouth one 
is in its stead. Could we but see, in our youthful days, the 
path we have to tread in after life, very few would have the 
nerve to pursue it. I would give ten years of the remainder 

of my life, to ex , but what's the use ? Let's talk about 

something else. At early dawn I was roused by the well 
knoAvn sound of ' boys to school,' and after a slowly eaten 
breakfast, started on my daily journey. When fairly out of 
the yard, the fog was so thick that I could not see a hundred 
yards before me, not even to the turn in the road, and I 



NEW-YORK CITY. 11 

thought when I got a few rods farther, that I should be com- 
pletely enveloped in it, so that I could not see ten feet from 
me ; but not so ; when I had gotten to the point where I sup- 
posed the thickest was, lo ! it had vanished — was just the 
same distance ahead ; and thus was chasing the fog until 
the sun dispersed it. 

" So it is with our vision in youth — every thing is encircled 
with the fog of ignorance, but increasing years and the sun- 
light of knowledge disperses the mist, and all is made clear 
and bright. Just so with a stranger in New-York ; he is all 
the time chasing the fog, and when he supposes or imagines 
he has found the thick places, is sure to be disappointed. 
This city is one grand kaleidoscope in perpetual motion, with 
the views passing so swiftly by that one is hardly seen before 
another is presented. At every turn a different and an en- 
tirely new scene appears, and it is as impossible to describe 
any particular one as it would be to count the stars. 

"Here the people worship that Trinity known as the 
golden eagle, the silver dollar, and the copper cent, with an 
idolatry equalled only by a fiiithful follower of Mahomet, and 
the features of this Triune Deity can be seen in their every 
act. To give you an idea of the feeling which pervades the 
very soul of this community, in contradistinction to that 
which exists South, I will relate two anecdotes. 

" Last summer, by way of variety, I attended, a camp- 
meeting (v/hich, by the by, is a something new in this country, 
but this people are celebrated for getting up new things) out 
about thirty miles from the city, near White Plains. Here I 
found that there were rival hotels, and that no one, except a 
very few, had their own lunch ; all depended upon hoarding. 
One of the proprietors told me he had made, at the meeting last 
year, several hundred dollars — ^hoped to do better this. At a 
similar meeting South, I have not unfrequently known every 



12 NEW-YORK CITY. 

family prepare at least quadruple more than was necessary 
for its own consumption for strangers ; and not only the lady 
and gentleman, but the sons, if they had any, going round 
the camp ground begging their acquaintances and friends, as 
well as all the strangers, to come and partake. 

" Another — My landlady, on certain occasions, is in the 
habit of giving a sort of tea-party to a few other friends. 
She generally prepares herself with one of the handsomest 
steeple cakes she can find among the bakers. When the 
company has been feasted upon her other delicacies, she ac- 
companies the servant (who bears the aforesaid steeple cake 
upon a large waiter, and understands the part he is to play) 
in double quick time around the circle, saying — 'Have a piece 
of cake ? have a piece cake ? have piece cake, piece cake ? — 
there, take it out, John, nobody wants any.' Next morning 
the cake is taken back, and two or three shillings paid for its 
use. 

" There is nothing at all censurable in the first instance, 
or any thing to boast of in the second, but it shows the ten- 
dency of the mind. Honest industry is commendable in any 
people, while profligacy and extravagance are equally repre- 
hensible. But to go on — 

" The city of New-York may be very justly compared to 
a human being — the City Hall being the heart, the Tombs 
the stomach, the Five Points the bowels, the Parks the lungs, 
Broadway the nose, the Piers the feet (as from these the 
travelling commences), Wall-street the pocket, the hotels the 
mouth, the theatres the eyes, the Bowery the aorta, the 
Avenues the veins, and Nassau and Ann streets the brains. 
To carry this simile a little farther, we may call New-York 
the head of the United States — if not the entire head, it's 
certainly the largest developed organ in the phrenological 
chart 5 then Broadway is assuredly the most prominent fea- 



NEW-YORK CITY. 13 

ture, physiognomonically speaking ; therefore we will, in due 
deference to this importance, pay it our respects first. 

" So come along over to the corner of Ann-street, as 
there we can get a better view than from any other point. 
By spending a quarter we can go up and take a stand in the 
verandah of Barnum's Museum, where we can see from the 
BoAvling Green to Union Park, as well as up Chatham-street, 
and down Ann and Yesey-streets. 

" See what an amount of moving matter. The white tops 
of the omnibuses resemble the waves of the ocean — and it 
looks as if we might walk from one end of Broadway to the 
other upon them, without the slightest difficulty. You would 
imagine that hardly another could be got into the street, yet 
it is like dropping one more drop of water into a river. The 
throng upon the sidewalks — see what a continual press, and 
one would suppose that it must cease after a while ; not so — 
the only difference is that, now and then, it increases very 
perceivably, but never lessens. Like a constant river, the 
banks are not unfrequently overflown, but never ceases to 
run with a strong current. There is always something new 
to be seen in Broadway ; something is sure to turn up that 
has never occurred before. A horse will fall down and 
break his neck by way of variety if nothing else. Stand 
here when 3^ou will, and you are sure to witness a new and 
novel sight. 

" It has become quite difficult to cross this street, and 
whenever attempted it is at the peril of your life or limbs. 
A few days ago I w^as occupied in the third story of Brady's 
establishment on the corner store of Fulton and Broadway, 
and I noticed two young ladies who wished to cross over to 
the ' Dollar Side ' (the west side is known as the ' Dollar ' 
and the east as the ' Shilling Side,' from the fact, I suppose, 
that all the fancy stores are upon that side) of Broadway. 



14 NEW-YORK CITY. 

They made repeated attempts, but failed ; and as for ' a 
Jehu ' making any halt for you, unless given to understand 
that you Avant to ride, it is a thing unknown in the history 
of a BroadAvay Omnibus driver. They seemed timid — I pre- 
sume were strangers — and therefore did not like to venture. 
After a while one made an effectual trial, but the other met 
with her usual disappointment ; — I became interested ; now 
the case was worse than before — they were separated ; this 
was too bad. They remained in this predicament for nearly 
an hour, when ' a jam ' occurred between a 'bus and a dray, 
w^hich stopped the current, and the girls got together. 

'• Listen to the newsboys — a steamer has arrived — ' extra 
'Eral ; arrival of the Pacific !' cries one. Another sings — 
' extra Sun,' <fec. These little fellows, many of them, are as 
sharp as steel traps, and often put an old paper off for the 
latest — however, they are of great service to the community, 
for in twenty minutes some of these fellows will be to the ex- 
treme limits of the city. The competition at one time raged 
SQ high, that the news of a steamer w^as frequently not only 
distributed all over the city, but half way to Albany before 
the vessel which brought it was in her berth. Since the 
telegraph has come into play, extras are not sent to the 
neighboring towns as formerly ; and now the news is often 
in New Orleans before the passengers are landed. Such is 
the wonderful improvement of our age. 

" This is the hour for the fashionables to show themselves 
upon the street ; it i^ a regular business to promenade 
Broadway at this time of the day, and sometimes in the 
afternoon or evening. There are some rare looking speci- 
mens of humanity, eh ? As we shall meet these butterflies 
again soon, vfe will let them pass for the present. 

" That is a ' Bulletin wagon,' which is driven all over 
the city, as an advertisement for a theatre. You see the 



NEW-YUKK CITY. 15 

play bills upon it — a regular Barnumism. There are dozens 
of them in successful operation. A quack medicine vender 
has one -which can be seen almost any -where 3"ou go. 

" Suppose -we go up to the top of this house and look at 
the neighboring to-wns. We -will pass through the collection 
of two millions of curiosities, as it -won't pay, -without halting. 
There no-w, -\Te can survey the surrounding countr}^ That is 
Hoboken — a little lo-wer do-wn you see Harsimus ; close by 
its side is Jersey City (the question of annexation is being 
canvassed in these to-wns) ; just in rear is Bergen ; farther 
down you see Staten Island. Several fine residences over 
there across the bay — that is South Brooklyn, then Brooklyn 
proper ; a little higher up is William sburgh, then there is 
Astoria, and various other smaller villages, whose names I 
have forgotten — if I ever knew. 

" How white the tops of the houses look ! This is the 
washerwomen's yard for drying clothes, there being no room 
on the ground — a sort of convenience of necessity. The 
smoke or atmosphere is too thick to see the waterworks or 
reservoir. We may go up there, if we have the time, before 
you leave. This is quite a view — see the steamboats, though 
there are but few in motion ; at half-past two to four p. m., 
you might see twenty-five or thirty moving out in different 
directions. Let us go down now and pay Stewart's a visit. 

" Stewart's is just in front of the Irving House, and is 
the only fancy store upon the east side of Broadway, at all, 
to my knowledge. Here we are — what a magnificent build- 
ing — occupies just the whole block, though rather a short one. 
The front and one side are solid marble, and the rear too 
for aught I know ; six stories above and one below ground ; 
a crowd of carriages during shopping hours always in front ; 
nothing is the ' exact ton ' unless it comes from Stewart's, 
these days ;■ — what a stupendous concern — about two hun- 



16 NEW-YORK CITY. 

dred clerks — sales amount to from seven to ten thousand 
daily. Here you can get any thing in the drygoods line. 
It is a wonder he don't keep hats and cigars ; it is said he 
monopolizes the carpet and glove manufactories of Paris and 
Brussels. As to the carpets, I don't believe the statement, 
but as to gloves, you cannot get Alexander's gloves unless 
you get them here. This is the largest establishment in the 
United States, and in all probability the largest in the world. 
He will make money for a while — so long as the rage is in 
his favor, and he keeps down competition ; he may fly high 
in the morning, but will light in the tub at night. So long 
as the snobs will pay enormous profits because it is the ' go,' 
he will keep up, but when they cease to be taxed as they 
are now, he will fail largely. You can get a shawl here 
priced $2,000, and every thing else in proportion. This 
man is not a benefactor, by any means, as he only gives rise 
to extravagance ; and I hope he will realize the fact that 
" the fashion of this world passeth away." There are no per- 
sons living overhead, as in many other houses, but all is 
occupied as a store, and filled from the cellar to the attic. 

'' We had better go towards the Astor ; it is approaching 
dinner hour, and we have to take the first table, as we can 
then go in the afternoon over to Greenwood Cemetery. We 
might have gone farther up Broadway, but as our rambles 
over town will frequently carry us through the principal por- 
tions of it, we will therefore defer our walk for another occa- 
sion. What a rush and crowd is always here — look at the 
baggage — that pile is going out, this just arrived ; it is so 
nearly all the time. I never could rest well in these em- 
phatically large and fashionable hotels — too much noise and 
confusion — there is very little real comfort got in the best. 
There goes ' the gong ' — what a hideous noise it makes ! 
Did you never notice the peculiar twang every thing has 
about a hotel ? It is very unpleasant to me — but to the table 



CHAPTER II. 

GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

" Dinner over, and after regaling our olfactories with the 
delicious fumes of a " bright Havana," such as cannot be ex- 
tracted from any thing else, we will pay a visit to Greenwood 
Cemetery. This constitutes one of the leading features of 
New-York city ; it is on Long Island, and I shall take great 
pleasure in carrying you through its sacred walks. 

" We will take this hack and ride, as it is several miles. 
Hop in ; how smoothly we move over the Russ pavement 
towards Fulton Ferry. An hour's drive brings us to the 
premises of the dead — the home where all the living must, 
sooner or later, be tenanted. As we approach this quiet^ 
peaceful, and hallowed spot, an awful solemnity creeps in- 
sensibly over the visitor, which can alone be produced by a 
proximity to the silent tomb. A white spear of marble can 
now occasionally be seen through the tops of the cedars, 
which shade and protect these sacred mementoes of affection, 
indicating our nearness to the cemetery where the dead re- 
pose in blissful quietude, from the noisy and perplexing con- 
fusion which surround the living." 

A visit to the graveyard — (where did that cold, revolting^ 
forbidding, and chilling name come from ? — not from the ele- 



18 GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

gant and refined nations of modern Europe, and certainly 
it never came from the sepulchre of the Christian, where "we 

" See truth, love and mercy in triumph descending, 
And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ; 
On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, 
And beauty immortal awakes from the Tomb ;" 

the Grecians called their cemeteries by the touching, endear- 
ing, and beautiful term of Gardens of the Reposing,) always 
creates, upon the rational man, a sublimity of feeling, (like 
the one produced by confessing an error,) which makes him 
not only a better but a wiser being. 

We are now within the gates ; see how tastefully the 
walks are arranged — how cleanly every thing looks — one is 
almost persuaded to lie down and die, in order to be buried 
in this lovely place. 

That is the vault where the bodies are kept till the final 
resting-place is made read}^ I would not be astonished if 
there were a dozen in there now " waiting their turn." 

Is this not a sweet place ? How still and quiet. This 
monument here was erected to an only daughter, and cost 
^30,000. She was to have been married in a few days ; had 
been to a ball, and as she was getting out of the carriage 
upon her return home, the horses took fright ; she fell be- 
tween the wheels and was killed instantly. The disconsolate 
parents spent her marriage portion for this, as a monument 
to her memory. It is also said that her room remains pre- 
cisely as she left it — every piece remains exactly where it 
w^as placed by her own hands. Upon every return of the 
fatal night, the parents put the house in full mourning, as if 
she had just died. 

To attempt a minute description of all the tomb-stones 
and inscriptions to be seen here, would require more time 



GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 19 

than is allowed a flying visitor ; and even if we were per- 
mitted to remain here weeks I could not do half justice to 
all. You can very readily perceive, that all that art or ex- 
pense can do has been already done to render these (or many 
of them) mementoes to the departed not only beautiful and 
exquisite, but magnificent and imposing. 

To wander and meditate a few brief hours amid the calm 
scenery and hallowing associations of Greenwood Cemetery, 
begets a gladness akin to inspiration, which, like the return- 
ing of spring, always engenders and teaches us to feel that 
the icy influences of winter had shed themselves from our 
hearts, and warmer and brighter sentiments were budding 
and blossoming in our souls. The idea of these calm, serene, 
and lovely cities of the dead, has become as familiar as 
household words, and the whole sense of the community re- 
volts at the bare thought of burying its dead under the very 
footsteps and thresholds of the living, and wonders how hu- 
manity should ever have indulged in a custom so startling 
and barbarous ! It was that eminently gifted author, Lester, 
who said : 

" Among the great and benign features of this advanc- 
ing age, teeming with wondrous novelties, strange plans and 
grand ideas, we should be untrue to the spirit of these high 
pulsations, these progressive throes and onward movements, 
if, while we prepare, improve, and enlarge the places, the 
mechanism, the utilities and the adornments of life, we forget 
to enshrine the material envelopes of our spirits when laid 
aside, in sanctuaries blessed, hallowed and lovely, whose 
very atmosphere shall breathe of hope and peace and sad- 
ness, and where holiness, like a spell, shall consecrate the 
remembrances that cluster round and speak from the dead — 
dedicated places, where the visitant unquiet heart may beat 
more calmly — the imagination be chastened, the soul purified, 



20 GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

and aspirations for a high celestial life be stirred into activ- 
ity. It is one of the evidences of progressing civilization, 
that the dead may welcome the living to their homes with 
the smiles of nature and her love tones, and her verdant car- 
pet resting softly on the placid heart, and her rosy flowers 
of perfumed breath and stainless hue loading the air with 
fragrance — with her graceful, sympathizing willows — her 
dark, sad cypress — her mourning pines, — investing with a 
solemn beauty the sanctuaries hitherto so drear and neg- 
lected. 

" It is, therefore, with delight we hail the advent of 
Greenwood Cemetery, uniting beauty, convenience, and ad- 
vantage, to benefit the living and to guard the dead. 

" How often will these suggestive abodes win hither the 
living to bathe their souls in holy meditation ! How often 
will they come to bring forth garlands and green chaplets to 
hang over the white urns which hold the precious dust of 
those they love ! Yea, they may come and return, but they 
will not go away from breathing this sanctified air, without 
some sweet thought — it may be the first — to be woven into 
the religious garniture of their existence. 

'• Burial places are now recognized as the gardens where 
flowers are planted for angels to gather, and it is universally 
felt to be proper that they should be made as beautiful as 
spots on this earth can well be. 

'• Here we shut out the associations of the world from our 
thoughts and let in better spirits for a while to purify and 
to strengthen. Here we halt an hour on our march over the 
dreary waste of time, to spend it here among the refreshing 
solitudes of nature and the crumbling mementoes (the dead 
one's only companion), and to escape from all the crushing 
and rending toils of this low life's struggle and its distract- 
ing duties. Here we reflect upon the new and higher and 



GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 21 

better life which is in store for us. Here we embrace the 
cool shades and gentle breezes which will waft over our silent 
homes, in soft and delicious tones, when we have " shuffled 
oflf this mortal coil " — our soul winged its way to the God who 
gave it, and our body mingled with its kindred dust. Here 
we learn patience and resignation, and the few hours spent 
in this retreat are as welcome to our troubled minds as the 
tones of Sabbath bells are to the ears of the home-re turnino; 
pilgrim. Here we are taught humility and love, which does 
much to reconcile us to life, to soften its asperities, and ren- 
der more pleasant the bitter cup of trial and probation it 
offers to our bliss. Here the world, with all its busy scenes, 
is shut out, and the broad white wings of the Angel of Re- 
pose seem to hover over and protect our wearied bodies, like 
the fingers of a lovely one laid caressingly upon our temples. 
Here the suffering and the weary, the sorrowing and the 
broken-hearted, are cheerfully beckoned to unbroken sleep. 
Here, by these silver lakes, we make our beds in peace, and 
along these peaceful valleys the hum and din of earth's tur- 
moil will never disturb our tranquil repose. Here the grace- 
ful willow will weep over our ashes, the sweetest zephyrs 
shall make music from the waving boughs, and wild birds 
shall pour out their requiem strains over our pillows. Here 
the "ivy never sere" will train over our graves and teach 
the winter-loving evergreen to cling to our tombstones. Here 
the pale violet and the white snowdrop will be blooming over 
our resting-place when the first beam of immortality shall 
look into our secluded tenements. And here the sufferers 
can rest, undisturbed and slumber in security till we are 
summoned to appear at that bar, before which a congre- 
gated universe must assemble to await the Judgment pro- 
nounced by the Great Jehovah, from whose decision there is 
no appeal ! 



22 GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

" The ancients entertained the idea that death was an hon- 
orable termination to a life of toil and heroism — and hence 
the burial places of the Greeks were associated with images 
of taste, cheerfulness and refinement. Such, too, was the 
idea of the Hebrews, who consecrated their most beautiful 
grounds for the sepulchres of their fathers, and embellished 
them with the most costly as well as the most tasteful adorn- 
ments. Christianity, too, which elevates and ennobles every 
principle of man's nature and refines his purest feelings, has 
sanctified the tomb of the Christian. It becomes something 
more than the sarcophagus of the ancients which preserved 
honored dust — it is the hallowed mausoleum, where the form 
is sleeping that will one day put on immortality. The early 
Christians appear to have had none of the revolting notions 
about the grave with which moderns have frequently asso- 
ciated it ; and many of the most picturesque spots on the 
Orient were chosen by them for the sites of these temples of 
memory, under whose solemn shadows they laid their de- 
parted to rest. There are a thousand sightly hills along the 
shores of the Mediterranean, where the gray towers of early 
Christian churches and convents are still relieved by tall 
cypresses, which cast their solemn shades over early genera- 
tions. 

'• To this day the Moravians, who seem to have preserved 
many of those touching primeval customs which had their 
origin in the purer and better days of Christianity, regard 
burial places as the dearest and most attractive spots. 
They never use the word death — they speak of their lost as 
the departed. They educate their children to visit the 
graves of their fathers with joy and pleasure, to pursue their 
studies and take their hours of relaxation there, enlivening 
moments of toil by emblems of immortality. 

Death levels all distinctions among men — the prince and 



GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 23 

tlie beggar are the same, and should be in God's holy sanc- 
tuary and the tomb. There poverty sleeps as proudly as 
royalty. There can be no real distinction in death, and there 
should appear none. If there be a blessing in wealth which 
should make it desired by all, it is that it may exempt us 
from wasting care and toil on earth, and give us an honored 
grave when we die, embellished by taste, where affection can 
come to rear its tablet and plant its flowers ; where genius 
and learning may come and have their purest taste for ar- 
tistic beauty gratified, and where all can come and imbibe 
lessons in art, virtue, and wisdom. May the spirit of peace 
and beauty reign over this sacred cluster of affection's tri- 
butes, till the final morning when Gabriel, the Angel of the 
Resurrection, standing one foot upon land, the other upon 
water, and raising his mighty wings over the globe, sounds 
that trumpet whose blast shall awaken to judgment a slum- 
bering universe !" 

What can I add to this graphic, characteristic, picturesque, 
and suggestive description of one of the most extensive as 
well as the most beautiful cemeteries in the world ? No- 
thing. The pilgrim who has wandered away from his home, 
and isolated himself from his kindred and his early attach- 
ments, feels especially pensive and sad while viewing the graves 
even of strangers, and finds many an inscription and stone to 
chain his thoughts in wonder and meditative silence. There 
lies a silver-headed old man, who has laid aside his staff and 
gone to meet his fathers ; here an innocent babe, the joy and 
hope of fond and affectionate parents ; and here a youth of 
promise and genius, cut short in early life ; there a wife, 
newly married, the stay of affection so suddenly severed ; 
and there manhood, in the vigor of life, like a shaft broken 
while in the performance of its duties, lies a worthless thing. 
All, all have gone down to rest for ever ! We trace them to 



24 GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

■\ 

the grave, but no farther, and nought now breaks in upon 
the silence which surrounds them, save the fluttering of birds 
or the sighing of a passing zephyr. 

The grave ! that home for all the living — the final couch 
for earth's kings. What a glorious company the living have 
in view when they, too, are called away from their idols here 
below. The patriarchs of old, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
and Joseph, and the Pharaohs of Egypt — Solomon, whose 
golden temple mocked the glory of the morning sun — the 
Thebans — emperors of Rome and Greece, with thousands of 
the illustrious of more modern days. The grave is, indeed, 
rich with departed greatness. Where is Scott, the immortal 
Scott? He sleeps with his brother in fame, Shakspeare. 
Where is Adam Clarke ? He too sleeps with his co-workers 
for glory above and the followers of Christ. Where is our 
own Washington ? He sleeps with Cincinnatus and Cal- 
houn, three names as legible as the stars in the heavens. 
The unrelenting grave has them all, and never again will 
such dust dissolve in its hallowed precincts. 

" What learn we from the past ? the same 

Dull com"se of glory, guilt, and gloom • 
,1 asked the future, and there came 

"No voice from the unfathomed tomb ; 
The sun was silent, and the wave ; 

The air but answered with its breath ; 
But earth was kind and from the grave 

Arose the eternal answer — Death !" 

We will now go home ; I think I have rendered you 
gloomy enough for this time, and in order to shake oflf this 
sadness, after tea we will go to one of the theatres. 

Driver, take us back through the city of Brooklyn, across 
Fulton Ferry, to the Astor House. 



CHAPTER III. 



THEATRES. 



The last left us ruminating and cogitating among the tombs 
of Greenwood Cemetery ; we now shift the scenes from the 
silent and peaceful abode of the dead, to the noisy and vex- 
ing walks of the living. According to all regularly systema- 
tized dramatic associations, after the tragedy comes the com- 
edy, and to follow the established custom, I shall take you, 
as well as the reader, into one of the leading theatres — the 
theatres certainly must be ranked as one of the leading fea- 
tures of New- York. I shall not discuss the moral tendency 
of this very prominent feature upon the phiz of the city of 
Gotham, but merely point out what is to be seen therein. 
The good old-fashioned tragedy has been almost taken en- 
tirely from the stage, and Ave see nothing now-a-days but 
comedies, farces, comediettas, extravaganzas, burlesques, (fcc. 
The Bowery theatre does, I believe, try to keep up the good 
old days of Booth and Forrest, et id genus onine, but it 
hardly pays ; the times have got ahead of that sort of thing. 
It takes something local now to keep up an " excitement" 
that will pa/i/. 

" Where are you going V 1 asked of my friend, who was 
" sliding " up to the Capt'n's office to settle. 

" After tickets — you have not got any, have you ?" 



26 THEATRES. 

" Come along, you are green yet — I know the ropes, and 
will pass you under cover of deadheadism." 

We " pass in " and take such seats as will be the most 
advantageous for eyeing the audience, as well as the stage. 

Very few of the business men of New- York ever visit 
places of amusement ; the scions and sprouts of upper tendom 
swell in when they have the funds or " game " upon the tapis. 
Most of the audiences are made up with strangers ; they are 
the individuals catered for here by all classes of money-seek- 
ers, from the professional blackleg to the silk merchant, and 
the theatres are not exceptions to the rule, by any means. 
I will remark, however, that the Astor Place theatre has 
from time to time been tried, by the exclusives of snobdom, 
on the " subscription plan," but has as often failed, so the 
" snobs " have to sit side by side with the democracy, when 
they condescend to show their wondrous selves at the vulgar 
theatre. 

The first act over, and " the 'play''^ begins. All who are 
dry go out and drink ; all who are not in the precise part of 
the house to suit their purposes, and all who come to be seen, 
get up and go out. As you have no objections to my saying 
a few things while these gentry are out, will do so — and pay 
attention to what you hear. Do you see that coxcomb of a 
fellow, with the short-tailed coat made of velvet (it is all the 
go for the young Avenuedles of wealth,) sitting by that beau- 
tiful girl, with the blue feathers in her opera hat ? That is 
his sister, whom he has persuaded or brought along at the re- 
quest of the fond parents, " to keep Charley, darling boy," 
company, and to insure his return at rational hours. Keep 
your eye on him and see with what devoted attention he pays 
his addresses to any thing but his sister. 

There, did you see him as he passed out of the boxes to- 
wards the door ? He and his friend Fred, have gone out to 



theatrp:s. 27 

do the fancy around the bar, over a sherry cobbler. His 
poor sister sits a few momonts eyeing the bonnets and dresses 
of the ladies generally — and a few of the beaux with whom 
she has not the slightest acquaintance — save in an instance 
or two. We leave our dramatis personae for a while, as the 
curtain rises. 

The play is " The Serious Family," and a good thing it 
is, but it cannot be done up by any body but Burton as Sleek 
and Brougham as McGuire. Burton is now acknowledged 
to be one (if not the very first) of the first comedians of the 
age. Brougham, too, for a young man, . stands very high, 
and deservedly so. Blake is in this category, as also Clarke 
and a few others. Among the ladies. Miss Mary Taylor — 
" Our Mary," as the boys have it — stands very high as an 
actress. She is good in almost any thing, from a dance up 
to high tragedy — sings well, and I had almost as soon hear 
her sing the " Sweep song," as to hear Jenny Lind in the 
" Echo or Herdsman's Song." Jenny ought to learn it, to 
astonish her country people with when she returns to her 
home. Down goes the curtain. 

Did 3^ou observe that the lady with the blue feathers was 
alone during the whole act ? Her brother got engaged in a 
discussion as to the relative merits of" dry wine" and "pale 
brandy," and forgot all about the play, and his sister into the 
bargain. Let us look into the effect of this little indiscretion. 

All the young ladies have admirers, either one whom the 
parents permit to pay their darling daughter attention, or one 
who is not allowed to show his face in the house, and some- 
times both ; and oftentimes the lover who is repudiated by 
the parents is the most acceptable to the fair damsel. In 
this case, the sister has the latter kind. He, as a matter of 
course, is always on the qui vive to get a chance to have a 
few moments of stolen conversation with his lady-love. The 



28 THEATRES. 

Ijrother has neglected his sister, and the lover observes it ; 
he walks over to the side where she sits alone, looks around 
for the brother, finds him over his cups, not caring what be- 
comes of his charge. The girl, whether from a desire to see 
her lover, or to get some one to protect her till the return of 
her brother, recognizing this intruder upon the sanctity of 
the family — he approaches the lady and takes a seat quietly 
by her side. The rest is easily imagined. 

The brother, after imbibing pretty freely of his peculiar 
brand, is lost to all regard for the welfare of his sister or any 
body else. The play over, and he is among the missing ; in 
all probability among the higher circles of the theatre "go- 
ers." The sister is compelled to go home under the protec- 
tion of her clandestine beau. It being late at night, the 
" Old Folks " know nothing of the particulars. Thus you 
see, at a glance, the tendency of such conduct, when every 
body knows that no one has their eye directed particularly 
upon them, their individuality being totally lost ; knowing, 
too, that all that is necessary to pass unnoticed, is to keep 
out of the wa}^ — dad will pay the bills, and no questions will 
be asked. 

Having followed this party home, let us point out another. 
Did you notice that flashy dressed gentleman with the large 
opera glass under his arm, who sat nearly opposite us in the 
second row of seats ? He is the son of a large Wall-street 
broker ; he came here to-night to see his fair lady-love, but 
she did not attend. After the second act was over, he be- 
came a little dry, and went out to take a horn, where he met 
a party of kindred spirits (his fiither being well known as a 
very rich man) ; he has many acquaintances among the city 
bricks, who frequent this place of amusement ; drinks for all 
hands are ordered to kill trouble. After taking a " repeater'- 
or two, the whole party is ready for any and every kind of 



THEATRES. 29 

^'•fnnP They now go up into the third tier, among the 
" higher-hiAV " classes, where a regular breeze is gotten up in 
order to astonish the natives and appear large. 

The police officers interfere and quiet the row by threat- 
ening to give them an extra room, lodging and board free at 
the Tombs. This infatuated young man reasons thus — " ' in 
for a penny, in for a pound.' I might as well make a night 
of it at once." He accompanies one of Eve's unfortunate 
daughters to her residence, and if he does not lose all his 
money, he certainly loses a portion of his self-respect and his 
good reputation. Having disposed of another of the swells, 
we will follow one more, and the curtain will drop for the 
night. You saw the large portly-looking gentleman, with 
immense whiskers and ponderous watch chain ? This is the 
striker (Jim C * * * * r) for the largest and most fashionable 
gambling-houses in the city, out upon the lookout, like a 
roaming lion, seeking whom he may devour ; and woe unto 
the unlucky wight who happens to fall into his clutches. 

Let us watch his manoeuverings to decoy the game 
(there's a pun for you) into his net. The following dialogue 
is enacted between " Big Jim," as he is familiarly term.ed, 
and the bar-keeper, or the boss, if he happens to be in sight : 

Big Jim. — " That was a slashing race to-day, and no- 
thing shorter." 

Bill—'' Who won, Jim ?" 

Jim. — " I tell you it was one of them races we read of— 
I tell you.'' 

Bill.—'' Who raked down the funds V 

Jim. — " Pelham, of course, because I was not on him. I 
always lose — haven't turned an odd trick since Fashion took 
Boston." 

Bill. — " Fanny was out of order, for she can beat Pel- 
ham." 



30 , THEATRES. 

Jlni. — " I lost just six hundred." 

Bill. — " You are in a nice streak." 

This attracts the attention of the bystanders— each in 
turn asks a question in relation to the race, and after the 
"ifs" and "ands" are fully commented upon, Big Jim calls 
up all hands for liquor, and after drinking the same, draws 
his wallet to settle, which has, to use his own expression, 
" the big head yet." After a few general remarks he invites 
one or two of the best-looking subjects to go over to Sher- 
wood's to get something good to eat. They follow him and 
partake sumptuously of his banquet. This all settled for, he 
carelessly intimates that he intends to go to a faro bank to 
make up his day's losses, and asks the barkeeper where the 
richest bank is in the city. He is directed to his accomplice's 
number, of course. Then he asks his companions to go and 
see him " split the bank wide open." They feeling very rich 
TiY\(\. ferocious^ agree to assist him in giving the "tiger" a 
severe ichipping. Aw^ay they go in search of the enemy, 
wdio is to get such a " lamming " as he never had before. 

The descriptions which I have seen of gamblers and their 
doings, for the most part, attempt to convey the idea that the 
dealer had supernatural power over the cards, so that he 
could make this card win or that one lose at pleasure. This 
I know is not the fact. From what I have noticed, I put it 
up that the reason the green one loses, is because he becomes 
excited with liquor or losses, so that he does not know what 
he is about. The chances are nearly even, only that the bet- 
ter has to guess all the time. If this were not so why would 
cool and sensible gamblers be found betting their money 
against a bank ? The chances are greatly against inexpe- 
rience ; and, too, the experienced and scientific gambler not 
unfrequently takes long advantages against ignorance ; the 
end generally is that the inexperienced and drunken better 



THEATRES. 31 

gets rid of all he ventures. All should avoid the gambling 
room as they would a viper, as it begets idle habits and licen- 
tiousness. 

At these gambling dens there are all kinds of induce- 
ments held out for persons to gamble — and the best plan is 
not to enter into temptation, lest you suffer the penalty for 
the transgression. Many a steady young man is ruined 
by venturing enough to cover his night's expenses, which 
doubled, he vainly attempts to recover his loss, when there 
is but little hope of recovery. Take my advice and eschew 
blacklegs and their haunts. 



CHAPTER IV. 

RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 

Here we are out of harm's reach ; we will now take a turn 
round town, and take a glimpse at the pictures to be seen 
almost in any part of this metropolis of the western world. 
Any one who walks the streets of New- York with his eyes 
and ears open, sees and hears many strange and horrid thin_o;s. 
Poverty, sickness, filth, crime, and wretchedness meet him 
full in the face at every turn ; and if he has a heart to feel 
for the misery of his fellow-creatures, it will be wrung with 
agony, by the shocking things which he encounters. 

Here is a picture drawn by a friend of mine with whom I 
was in company when it was witnessed, and will vouch for 
the correctness thereof. It is done so well that I (with his 
permission) take it as my own. Here it is : — 

" We were walking up Broadway last week during the 
'rainy season,' picking our way as best we could through the 
mud and wet, when we heard the cry of an infant — such a 
piteous wailing as made the blood creep in our veins and 
caused us involuntarily to look around to see whence the 
sound proceeded. Then a sight met our eyes that we trust 
in God they may never know again. A woman almost naked 
— one of those poor creatures that famine and oppression have 
driven from their home to an asylum in this land of plenty. 



RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 33 

" She was haggard-eyed, squalid, and dirty — the very pic- 
ture of hopeless despair. Her dress consisted of an old pet- 
ticoat, a chemise, and a sha^vl scanty in its proportions and 
a mere ' thing of shreds and patches.' She carried in her 
arms an infant just as it came ' into this breathing world,' 
entirely naked and unwashed, its little eyes tightly closed to 
shut out the light it better had never seen. We stood for a 
moment riveted to the spot. We could not believe that it 
was not some horrid vision, conjured up by our imagination ; 
but the cries of the poor little one proved the dreadful reality. 
The woman was proceeding on, unconscious of all that was 
passing around her, her eyes fixed on vacancy, and an ex- 
pression in her face that plainly showed that hope was a 
thing she knew not — that her cup of human misery was full, 
and that she recked not wdiere she went or what became of 
her. 

" We advanced and spoke to her. She gazed at us with 
a stupid, stolid look, and made no reply. 

" ' How old is your child ?' we asked. 

" ' About an hour,' she replied. 

" ' Where was it born V 

" ' Yonder, sure, under them boards,' she answered, and 
was about to continue her walk onward. The thought of 
asking for charity did not occur to her — that forlorn hope 
she had tried too often unsuccessfully perhaps before this 
grand climax of her dreadful life. 

" Hurriedly searching our pockets, we gave her what 
money we had about us — a very small sum, but a mine of 
wealth to her — and told her to go and buy food for herself 
and some covering for the child. 

" When we placed the money in her withered hand, she 
gazed at it with a look of wonder for a moment, pressed it to 
her face as if to convince herself that it was reality — then 



34 RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 

turning a look upon us that we shall not soon forget, she 
uttered only the Avords ' God bless you !' — not such a bene- 
diction as beggars of her class usually give, but a deep, fer- 
vent Avish that came welling up from her poor, broken heart 
— a fervent prayer for our good and happiness, that had we 
given a world to purchase it, we should not have held too 
dear. 

" She passed on her way — God knows where, we hope to 
a world where such misery as hers is not known." 

The above is true, every word of it, and we ask those rich 
and pampered sons and daughters of luxury to stop a mo- 
ment ere they deny it and say it is impossible such things 
should exist here in New-York. You know little the sorrow 
and the wretchedness, the dreadful want that is crushing the 
life out of a thousand hearts around you on every side, or 
how many you could make happy with a hundredth part of 
what you squander every day. 

This is only one of the tens of thousands of a similar na- 
ture to be met hourly within the corporate limits of this 
wealthy, law-abiding, and religious city. We continue (it 
must be borne in mind that I have my friend, the Colonel, 
with me yet) our walk, sight-seeing. Look at that old wo- 
man sitting on the curbstone, near the corner of Lispenard 
and Broadway ; she has occupied this seat for more than a 
quarter of a century — so says one of the "oldest inhabitants" 
— and has amassed a handsome independence thereby. There 
she sits, as firmly fixed as the liberty-pole over the way, and 
is to be seen almost as regularly, except on Sundays. It is 
further stated that she owns the building just opposite, with 
an annual rent of $2,500. To look at her as she sits, drawed 
up into a knot, would almost melt the heart of an infidel ; 
wdien you take a good look at her, you can see a ray of firm- 
ness and independence, which is never seen or observed upon 



RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 35 

the countenance of those deserving charity. It is said she 
sits on a board with a "pad" or cushion on it. Let us drop 
a penny out of her reach to see ; — it is a fact ! While upon 
beggars let me add another item to the account ; I have been 
informed that there is a regularly formed association of men, 
with a president and directors, secretary and treasurer, who 
have persons hired by the month to beg. Don't doubt it 
at all. 

The saying, that " one half of the world know not how 
the other half lives," has grown, like Jefferson's " all men are 
born free and equal," into a vulgar adage ; both are true and 
untrue, and have no sense in either application. In the first 
case, one half of the world don't live at all, or have lives not 
worth having. The continual struggle with poverty, and the 
temptation which surrounds it, the longings ever forcing 
themselves upon the heart for something better, and the 
thousands of disappointments that are invariably attendant 
upon every hope and desire — the heartburnings — the grasp- 
mgs after good, which vanishes as it is approached — the bitter 
knowledge that the other half of the world feels for these no 
sympathy, and the envious jealousies which these thoughts 
give rise to, cannot be called life. Life must have soul. 

The second is more absurd — men are born helpless and 
dependent things, and are not free and equal, nor never can 
be either. The idea that this dogma contained sense or 
patriotism has exploded long ago. 

If all the thoughts and acts of our lives were written 
upon our foreheads, the fashion would soon be to wear our 
hats pretty low down on our heads ; or if our hearts were 
mirrors which reflected the secret working thereof, what a pic- 
ture would only one present. But we must continue our 
ramble. The following is from the same pen which I called 
to my aid at the commencement of this chapter, and de- 



36 RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 

scribes that which I desire to do so well that I incorporate 
it as my own : 

" Walk down Broadway ; how beautifully the sun shines 
— how all glitters ! Look at the jewels — the articles of taste 
and luxury presented at every turn to please the eye of the 
passing thousands. How the silk rustles and the satin 
shines, and feathers nod over lovely forms, and what a smile 
is upon every lip ! Trust it not, it covers — what ? All that is 
horrible, despicable, mean, heart-breaking, and agonizing. 
Not one perhaps of all this gay and seeming happy throng 
is happy ; some secret wish remains ungratified ; some 
dreadful crime preys upon the heart, and remorse is working 
there — working unseen and hidden, but surely, fatally.. That 
smile shall vanish, that laughing eye grow dim, and all un- 
veiled, that dreadful agony alone shall stand revealed. What 
is life to such a one ? A mockery, a very mockei^y ! Oh, 
how often the wish, " would that I had never been born," is 
dwelling in the heart ! 

" Take your pampered son of luxury, who from his cradle 
has never known a want nor dreamed of a wish that was not 
gratified ; go with him to his splendid home, sit with him at 
his well-spread board, and feast with him upon the delicious 
products of every clime, brought from far and near to please 
his palate and renew his appetite ; sit with him at his fire- 
side, go with him to his club, join in his games and hear his 
laugh and see his merry look. 'Tis false ; his life is all one 
lie ; he does not know a happy hour ; his pampered body is 
a wretched charnel-house, where misery, under the guise of 
happiness, sits brooding evermore. His life is all excite- 
ment ; he takes the goods the gods provide, as a matter of 
course ; he is one of the chosen few that all these things were 
made for, and he uses them without one thought of all the 
want, the misery, and wretchedness by which he is sur- 
rounded. Can that man be happy ? 



RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 37 

" Now come with us again. We leave this gaudy throng 
and turn into this by-street. What a change ! Do not let 
it surprise you. Its change is only external — the inner view 
is just the same. Come, let us go down into this cellar, 
whose rotten, tottering steps can scarce support our slip- 
ping feet. How noisome and how dank — now look around 
you. see the green slime upon the walls — the festering rot- 
tenness of every thing around — no light, no fire, no sound. 
Yes, there is a sound — listen ! it is a moan ; it comes from 
that poor pallet of straw, upon which, now that our eyes are 
used to the darkness, we perceive a miserable form reclined. 
Her sunken cheeks and holkw eyes proclaim that death has 
laid his hand upon her, and that her life of misery in this 
world is nearly over. 

" ' I am dying, John ; come near me before I cannot see 
you, for my sight is going fast ;' she addresses this to yon 
figure crouched there upon that old table. It is a man, but 
what a man ! He sits with his knees drawn up to his chin, 
his hands pressed against his forehead, and his eyes fixed 
with a demoniacal look upon the ground. He is clothed in 
rags, and his unshorn beard, his haggard look, his withered 
form, and the horrible expression of his face, make him a 
picture of despair ; grim, ruthless, unutterable, hopeless de- 
spair. As the sound of her voice breaks upon his ear, he 
starts like one aroused from a dreadful dream — gazes at us 
for a moment, but says nothing ; then as he recollects, rushes 
with a single bound beside the form of her who lies there 
dying — dying of what ? Starvation ! He takes her hand — 
that rough and desperate man — as tenderly as when he took 
it first in years gone by, and printed on it the kiss that 
thrilled his heart, and made her bosom bound with hope 
and joy. 

" ' Mary ! Mary !' it is too late. As he releases the hand 



38 RAMBLE OVER TOWN. 

tlie arm drops nerveless by her side. He places his hand 
upon her heart — all is over. He bursts into an agony of 
grief, and throAvs himself beside her. They have fought the 
battle of life together — both have been worsted — both were 
outcasts ; one is dead — the other had better be." 

Enough — my heart sickens — almost dies within me ; we 
will go no further to-day. As the Five Points will form the 
subject for another Glimpse, and this being in that line, we 
desist for the present. We will now hurry to our rooms to 
get rid of the miserable scenes around us, where we can re- 
flect on what we have seen, and prepare ourselves for a visit 
to-morrow to Wall-street. # 



CHAPTER V. 



WALL-STREET. 



To fully appreciate and understand Wall-street, you must 
meet " upon 'Change ;" but I will do what I can to show 
its parts in their true colors. Then come along, Colonel, 
let us take a look at Trinity Church, before entering the 
" sea" of busy life, as we may need a little " bracing" of 
nervies. Trinity Church steeple is the highest in the city, 
and probably the highest in the United States, unless there 
is a higher one in the city of Charleston, South Carolina. 
This church stands just in front of Wall-street, as if looking 
down upon all the ungodliness, and as if to warn those who 
frequent this swindling den to turn from their iniquities and 
evil propensities. It is built of dark stone, and presents a 
neat and rich appearance ; the inside Avork is costly and 
gaudy, which seems to have been finished more for show 
than true taste or beauty. It has been said that this church 
is the richest one in the United States, and I do not doubt 
it. The pews are free to all who desire to hear the gospel 
elucidated within its sacred walls. The doors are opened 
every day at 9 a. m. for prayer, and not a few are to be 
seen bowing before the holy shrine, and in a few moments 
making their way to some 6 by 32 basement room in 
Wall-street, or busily discussing stocks or politics upon 



40 WALL-STREET. 

'Change. This building, take it all in all, is worth an hour's 
visit. 

We will now turn into Wall-street, and take things as 
they " turn up" or appear as we go through this densely 
thronged street. The first place we pass of note is Adams 
& Co.'s Express Office, No. 16. Here is a crowd receiving 
and delivering goods and packages of all sorts, sizes and 
shapeSji^for all places upon the civilized globe, yea, for all 
parts where steam or wind can take man. What a rush ! — 
so we'll pass on. Here's the Morning Express (newspaper) 
Office, on the corner of Nassau and Wall ; that crowd are 
reading the bulletin of the latest telegraphic news ; there 
are pickpockets in this party — so we will not stop to look. 
This is the Custom House ; it is a plain and handsome stone 
building, and I think the most appropriate looking house I 
ever saw. Look — what massive cornices and pillars. That 
is a fine house ! See, at the " knick-knack vender's," seated 
upon the steps, everything, from a "jackleg knife" to a New- 
foundland dog. 

There is Jauncey Court Place, where the pettifogging 
gentry habituate from 9 to 3, except on court days and hours. 
Opposite are a number of banks — underneath are brokers' 
offices. There is Exchange Place — a large square building 
wdth a thousand and one cells, something like a bee-hive, 
where all sorts of agents, lawyers, bankers, brokers and 
capitalists do their head work. It reminds one of the 
answer which our Saviour made when asked somethinor con- 
corning the great '' I Am's" dwelling, viz. ; " In my Father's 
house are many mansions ; if it were not so, I would have 
told you." Here is William-street. Look now four ways, and 
see what a throng hurrying to and fro, all eagerly intent 
upon some object. There is the building where Brown, 
Brothers & Co. do their " drawing" and " checking" upon all 



WALL-STREET. 41 

the moneyed institutions in the known world. There, on the 
same side, below, is the Exchange itself^ where all the busi- 
ness men meet " on 'Chang;e" at a certain hour, and ex- 
change understandings as to trades and transactions, &c. 

In this house is a large room where the " Board" meets 
to sell stocks, &c. The Board is composed of a set of men 
who buy and sell stocks, and have to pay about ^400 for this 
privilege. These men are called the " Bulls" and " Bears." 
When a man has stocks to sell he is " a Bull," and when he 
wants to buy he is "a Bear." One of the laws of this 
Board is, that all members shall stand up to what they say, 
or be excommunicated ; and I believe it is enforced. Another 
is, that when he offers a given price, he is bound to take the 
same for what he has of the like commodity. For instance, 
lie is asked what he will give for "Erie" to-day, and he re- 
plies 72 J, when it is probably quoted higher ; he is bound to 
take 72^ for what he has, if the "asker" says he will give, 
or wants it. This is a good lav/, and if it were more exten- 
sively practised, it would be much better for green sellers. 
Suppose when a planter comes to Charleston and exhibits 
his examples to the cotton buyer, and asks what he will give 
for this lot of 100 bags, the buyer replies 1 cents ; if the 
buyer were compelled to take 10 cents for all be has on 
hand of the same quality, would he do it ? I think not. In 
this way many persons are taken advantage of to the tune of 
thousands of dollars. This is pretty good for Wall-street — eh ? 
We will now take a stroll into this famous retreat of 
'' money changers," and see how things are managed. There 
sits the President with the gavel in his hand, the transfer 
clerk at his side with his pen over his ear — the President to 
knock down the lots offered for sale, and the clerk to tvrite 
^em doiuji. This august dignitary now proceeds to the sale 
of such stocks as are upon the books for selling, &c. 



42 WALL-STREET. 

" $1000 U. S. 6's," he calls out in a loud tone, when some 
fellow in the crowd sings out 113J. Another in the crowd 
says " taken." And here it goes as fast as they can speak. 
One says 93 1-8, and another " taken." The President then 
goes to the Railroad Stocks, and cries out "Harlem," or 
Stonington, or Erie, or Reading, and in fact goes through 
the whole list of Banks and Roads and Insurance Companies, 
and when a Bull has a lot for sale, he says whatever he will 
take or give ; for instance, " 100 shares of Harlem" is called 
out, he says what he will take, say 74J, and if no one says 
"taken," he is the purchaser at the 74 J, and thus it goes 
bidding and taking until the list is gone through. 

After the sales are all over, each one goes to the transfer 
desk, and has his bills all marked to him, and gives his check 
for the funds, or gets the same, if he has sold any thing. 
There is a " margin" left for ups and downs, or rise and fall. 
It is the same nearly as buying cotton ; a deposit of 50 or a 
100 cents can buy a bag of cotton, and 15 or 20 cents can 
buy a hundred shares of stock. Of this I cannot speak from 
the card, not having had any transactions in either line. 

The Wall-street broker either lives in some of the 
avenues or in a basement — according to his dollars or incli- 
nations — like the cotton speculator and the " striker" — all 
are knoAvn to the " outsider" as the broker in stocks or specu- 
lator in cotton. I have seen in Columbia and Augusta men 
buy 500 or 1,000 bags of cotton who did not have $5 in the 
world — so with the Bulls and Bears in Wall-street. But this 
does not prove there are not men of responsibility engaged 
in the business of buying stocks in Wall-street, or cotton 
from the wagons in the streets of Columbia or Augusta. But 
all are classed together. 

There are various terms and phrases peculiar to all kinds 
of professions and callings ; one of these known only to 



WALL-STREET. 43 

Wall-street merchants, of which I shall take notice, is " a 
corner," which I will try to explain so that it may be under- 
stood even out of Wall-street. 

A firm, if it is rich enough, but generally a set of men 
in whom each can confide, or think they can place the utmost 
reliance in each other, agree to buy up all the shares in a 
given company, say Long Island, as it is a small aifair, and 
then raise the prices and thereby make a good thing of it. 
Well, they go round and get all the shares they can, private- 
ly ; when they have gotten all that is to be had privately, 
they commence on the mart and buy publicly. They now 
find that they have nearly all the stock, and then go into the 
Board, and when the stock is offered, they say for instance 
87 J, at 30 days ; another thinks that he can, within the 30 
days, pick it up at 85 (for it is quoted at 84J or 5), may be 
6, and make money. Another fellow will say, he will sell 
500 at 90 or 120 days, as the case may be, (fee, &c. 

Next day the " time sellers'^ (though none of them have 
a share of the stock, thinking as it has not been on the " brisk''' 
lately, there is plenty to be had only for the " hunting of it 
up") go out upon 'Change and begin to scout about for 
" Long Island ;" they find that none is in the market for 
sale. After a few days, or rather, when the time approaches, 
they see that they are hooked, and must keep up their words 
and credit or leave the room ; they say they will give the 
full value, 87J, and lose their time and interest. But not so 
fast, these holders ask 100 or 120, if they think it is safe. 
One of these conspirators sees that his stock has gone up 
from 87J to 120, thinks it would be as well to let " a few" of 
his off at the 120, and one more of the conspirators does so too, 
and by and by this man who asked 120 for his stock, finds 
that some one has been letting off his stock, who promised to 
hold, and that he has to pay for it all, because he asked. 



44 WALL-STREET. 

The rule is, if you ask^ you must give. Some time last 
spring, one of the firm of Jacob Little & Sons had to give 
his check for $70,000 for one of these " corners.''^ 

Never having had to pay for one of these " corners," I 
cannot fully explain it ; probably Mr. Little, or some one else 
•who has been cornered, can ; but this is the gist of the thing, 
so that I hope it will be understood by the reader. " It is 
a poor rule that will not work both ways," at any rate. 

We now pass out and go into Nassau-street, and up to 
the Post-Office, which is situated on a little eminence between 
Cedar-street and Maiden-lane. Here you will always (as in 
Wall-street) find a crowd in a hurry. Around the railings 
you see for sale apples, pencils, maple sugar, envelopes, 
wafers, wax, papers, old books, pea-nuts, calamus root, and a 
little of all sorts of trade (except the dogs and chickens of 
Wall-street) that a" penny can be made at. Here you see 
the miscellaneous part of New-York. The Jew" and the 
Gentile meet here — priest and Levite congregate at the 
Post-Office. I have stood for hours, on difi"erent days, to see 
if I could recoo^nize a sino^le individual come twice. There, 
do you see that young disciple of the " Razor Strop Man 7" 
How he takes the green ones as they pass ! Listen to him ! 

" Here they go, gentlemen (he is selling lead pencils), at 
twelve for one shilling — better take them while they are 
going — the man is dead who made them — never get them so 
cheap again — twelve for one shilling. Another sold, and 
the money received l" 

He is one of the boys, and will be down South next 
winter, selling some sort of notions for a large house. 

Now we had better escape from the crowd, and get into 
the Astor. if Ave can cross the street. There, we are safe 
now, and will stop for dinner, after which we can ride out 
upon the famous Third Avenue, and back in time for supper. 



CHAPTER YI. 



THIRD AVENUE. 



The fame of the "Third Avenue" is as great as New- 
York itself, and it is certainly worthy of this notoriety, be- 
ing, as ye will soon see, a " rara avis*^ of the " sui generis^' 
breed. A drive upon the Avenue is always worth the time 
and expense it takes, for there nature can be seen sticking 
out in great " chunks," as big as a horse's head all about. 

Third Avenue is an extension of Bowery-street (or in 
city parlance " The Bowery"), where all the b'hoys and 
g'hals vegetate, and it partakes very much of the parent 
stem. We have not time now, to see this famous Bowery- 
street, but will save it for a future glimpse when we visit 
Chatham-street. We now mount an omnibus, and take a 
seat on either side of the Jehu (all 'bus drivers are called 
Jehu), so that we can the better observe the sport as it passes. 
This avenue extends up to Harlem, and in fact there is a fine 
trotting road, to the " Romantic House" at the Low Bridge, 
which is just nine miles or a little over from the City Hall. 
This road, or rather street, is very wide, slightly undulating, 
well Mc Adamized, and with the exception of a very small por- 
tion, always in fine condition for trotting and enjoying a drive 
when not too 6///.9/y, which by the way is not seldom, ten minutes 
after a rain. At nearly every mile-post there is a stopping 



46 THIRD AVENUE. 

place, where the teams are rubbed off, watered, and held till the 
driver calls for them — here the inmates drink, smoke, boast 
of their nags, play "rounce" and dominoes. The stages or 
stopping places are known as the " Four Mile House," " The 
Fountain," " The Red House," or the " Two Follies," or some 
other which the owner's fancy may suggest when he sets up 
in business. 

We are now at the 27th street dep6t ; here the hum of the 
town dies away and the shrill whistle of the engine is heard 
in its stead. We pass on to the upper depot ; here we pass 
round the " muddy place" and are again in the Third Avenue. 
This is the only bad part on the road, and I don't see why 
the city Fathers do not fix it up for the boys. 

There, that's a team for you — striped wheels and a yellow 
body, look how he holds his whip, that is the exact position. 
That's a clever span, and they go along very well together — 
he is one of the young Avenudles out on the " fancy," see 
that peculiar air of his — he is looking out for " game" and 
will " spring" it soon. Halloo, there comes one round the 
corner, see him — he is one of the b'hoys out for a drive — is 
equipped for a race — see that jockey cap, that sulky, there 
he comes like a thunder-gust, see he banters the fancy man, 
by trying to run over him. The fancy takes — there they 
go like two whirlwinds, what a dust they raise — they are 
gone. 

Here's another, he is on the sly — has been waiting 
for some one who has agreed to meet him and test the speed 
of their teams. He don't come in yet — they will be along 
presently, like two tornadoes : keep a look out, they are sure 
to come. 

Look at that fellow with the red wheels and silver mount- 
ings, he is out with his Juliana Johnson. He takes it at 
a moderate lick, laying back for " jigs," and coming home when 



THIRD AVENUt:. 47 

they have on more of the " oh he joyfnl.^^ This is emphatically 
a fast pair, out upon a drive taking the chances. There, I 
told you that fellow in the sulky was waiting for his partner ; 
here they come, they have let slip the '• war dogs ;" how they 
" go it." Here comes another from the right — another from 
the left, they enter at the same time, this is a signal for a race, 
which is never to be unheeded or backed out from ; we are 
ahead, and you can hear them urging their teams somewhat 
after this fashion : 

" What are ye about thar !" " Get along !" '• Ga lang, ye 
danged ole 2 40." " Git up, you ole 500 dollar cus." " Stidy, 
thar, ole boy ! steadee ! !" 

They pass us in a twinkling, and leave a dust behind that 
you could almost hang your hat upon ; they are out of sight, 
but here comes another fast team, and another, and another. 
As fast as one passes others come in its stead ; look, the road 
is full, all going it as if their lives depended on getting to the 
goal by a particular minute, or would lose drinks for the crowd. 

There goes another at " a killing lick," see how he leans 
back pulling the ribbons ; his coat tails standing out behind 
so straight, that a nimble schoolboy might play a game of 
marbles upon them, an old " soger" in his mouth, a perfect 
picture of the cuts you have often seen in the barber shops 
of " the Fast Man^^ driving the old horse " Some Punkins." 

We are now at Harlem, let us get down from our " 'bus" 
to get a cigar, and knock the dust from our clothes. Here 
comes a fellow with a whirl — he turns in " too-hoey thar," 
out of his wagon he leaps, swearing (that is, if he had no 
competitor alongside) that he can beat any " boss" on the 
road. Should he happen to be in funds or in good credit, he 
asks his friends to take something and then look at his team. 

Let us go into the house and see what is on the wing. 
Here are four fellows engaged in a game of dominoes — they 



48 THIRD AVENUE. 

look as cross and sullen as heathens over a fallen enemy. 
Slap go the pieces, bang goes the table, the game is over, 
Jim is " put in." What'll you take, boys ?" " A little of that 
new drink," says one. " IVhat is that ?" inquires the mixer of 
commodities. *' Why brandy and water." Drinks all round, 
and cigars taken — out they go, for another station. 

Here is a party playing " rounce" or '' freezing out," at 
two shillings ante — first man out takes the money, and the 
last one out pays for the rum. They are stuck for the after- 
noon, or the night may be — we leave them to their enjoyment. 
Thus it is, from 2 p. m. of a fine afternoon till night all the 
year round, drinking, driving, swelling, smoking, bragging, 
bettino-, cursino^, carousinc^ and loafing; on the Third Avenue. 

One is at a loss to understand Avht) it is that can keep this 
thing up so perpetually (and to outsider so astonishing), 
when he is taught to believe or think that all Yankees are a 
close-fisted, penurious and working race. This may be easily 
accounted for when we once are behind the curtains. There 
are thousands of "off" clerks and bar-tenders and loafing 
gentry (these vultures of community and suckers of other 
peoples' industry), and jockeys hired to train and sell horses 
for livery stables, on commission. This " off" clerk and bar- 
tender phrase may not be readily understood by a country- 
man. The drinking saloons and hotels, nearly all of them, 
are kept open all night as well as all day ; consequently it 
requires two or three sets of attendants, so there is always 
one set "off." There are many other kinds of business 
which require two sets of "hands." You see they have only 
this time for frolic and fun, and they make the best of it. 
Now and then you can see a scion of the uppertendom, who 
is fond of sport, mix in with this company by way of recrea- 
tion, and to get a good chance to fill his skin with rum, with- 
out his friends finding it out. 



THIRD AVENUE. 49 

Another peculiarity of the " Third" is, that when the 
" regulars" find out or see a new team, or " green one on the 
road, thej all " pitch into him ;" that is, will drive by him, to 
get the speed of his horse ; or fretting him so that he will run 
away, or be compelled to turn in to a stopping house. All 
new comers are considered fair game for the initiated, and 
woe be unto him, if he has an unruly team, as they " pitch 
into him" from all directions. If he gets vexed or fretted, 
so much the worse, he had better take it coolly. If this un- 
lucky wight happens to have a fast team and can outgo the 
natives, they will " pitch into" his wheels and cut out his 
spokes, so as to cripple his wagon. This by common consent 
and custom has became laiv, and no one must resist or deny 
its authority. There is no sport w^ithout. 

Let us take a hack and go up to the High Bridge, it is 
one of the features in New-York's physiognomy and deserves 
a stroke of the pencil. This is part and parcel of the stu- 
pendous undertaking known as the Croton Aqueduct. The 
Bridge is built of stone, and is about two hundred feet above 
the water, and abovit a half mile long. It brings over the 
pipe through which the water passes to the reservoir. There 
is a foot path over it for the convenience of pedestrians. It 
shows the indomitable perseverance and genius of the uni- 
versal Yankee nation. Here is the resort of pic-nic parties, 
and it is seldom, of a fair day, one is not to be seen enjoying 
this retreat from the scenes of busy life. Down under us, 
as it were, you see Harlem, and there to the left, is the Ro- 
mantic House near the low bridge that is a stopping-place 
for fist parties, where the same scenes, which I have shown 
you on the Third Avenue, are enacted, only here you can get 
rooms and dinner, from two shillings to the size of your 
" pile of rocks." That is the East River, winding its way to 
the ocean, laving the sides of Williamsburg, Brooklyn and 



50 THIRD AVENUE. 

New-York cities as it passes. It lias not that majesty or 
grandeur of tlie North River or Hudson, nor is there that 
scenery along its banks, which is to be seen upon " the Rhine 
of the Western Continent." 

To-morrow we will take a look at the other side of the 
Island, and stop at the Abbey, which is the greatest rendez- 
vous for men and women " now out." The Third Avenue is 
frequented more by the b'hoys and g'hals of the Bowery ; 
but the Abbey's the place for the emphatically fast people. 
The young snobs and Avenudles visit the Abbey ; it is the 
resort for Upper-ten-b'hoydom. You will see to-morrow for 
yorself, so I'll say no more. 

There vfe have got back safe and sound to the Astor, 
where we can rest, if such as we get in New-York can be 
called rest^ which, by the way, is problematical, very ! 
'' Speaking of guns," I shall one of these days give you a 
" telegraphic visit" to all the principal hotels north of the 
Potomac ; it may be of service to you if you remain long 
North. Good night; take care of yourself; to-morrow, al- 
though the holy Sabbath, we will visit the Abbey in the 
afternoon. 

But by way of penance or getting absolution from sin 
for a day, we will go to church, and hear the great Dr. Tyng 
in the forenoon. It will pay, if he gets on the right key ; 
he, though, is like other people, very uncertain. Next Sab- 
bath I will take you to hear an old-fashioned Methodist, who 
preaches a good sermon, I tell you ; he is truly eloquent. 
However, we will try Tyng ; maybe he will come down low 
enough to earth to be heard — good night, 



CHAPTER YII. 



THE ABBEY. 



We will now take a carriage, and go up the Fifth Avenue, 
which, as I have remarked, is the Nabob-street of New- York ; 
though there are now many interlopers and snobs edging 
themselves into this fashionable seclusion, and many of the 
"really fashionable" are moving over to Stuyvesant Square, 
near where Hamilton Fish resides ; since his elevation to a seat 
in the United States Senate, property in his neighborhood 
has risen some ten or twenty per cent. — such is life (high) 
in Gotham, till we strike the Bloomingdale-road, thence to 
the Abbey. 

The Abbey is situated about seven miles from the city, 
upon an eminence near the banks of the Hudson, command- 
ing a beautiful view up and down the river. It is an exqui- 
site spot, beautifully and tastefully laid out, ornamented 
with trees and shrubbery (what a pity it is prostituted to such 
purposes as at present), and every other decoration which can 
render it inviting or pleasing, as well as convenient and 
comfortable. The establishment is gotten up to accommodate • 
all sorts 0^ fast people, from the gambler to the fashionable 
young Avenudle and his dulcinea. Here are pistol-galleries, 
billiard-tables, card-rooms, dancing-rooms, ten-pin alleys, 
eating and sleeping-rooms, parlors, <fec., &c. Here cards 



52 THE ABBEY. 

and Trine and all the other vices are in constant demand and 
use. We are here rather early, hut can amuse ourselves 
looking round at the premises, till the frequenters of this 
tempting place hegin to drive in ; and in an hour that shed 
will be so full of TN'agons, till not another one can he put up. 
They come in squads and platoons, generally picking up a 
competitor on the way /or the " gate." 

That house in the front yard is a gambler's den, where 
one lives during the summer months, and keeps open doors. 
It is out of town — who cares ? Nobody — every body is out 
on a spree, and every thing is " happy-go-lucky." " No 
tales out of school," suits all hands, both old and young. 

Halloo ! look up the lane ; they begin to make a respec- 
table show. See that team of blacks with the yellow buggy 
wagon ; that is a turn-out for 3'OU " as is a turn-out." The 
girl on the right, pulling the ribbons, leaning back in fine 
jockey style — smoking a cigar as I live ! Up they drive, 
with a perfect rush ; out jumps the man, who swears that 
" that woman can beat him," or any " other aniTual on the 
road." She gets out ; hands the reins over to Patrick, and 
joins her partner in the parlor, till a room is frepared. 

" She's a trump," says a bystander. " Did you see how 
she handled them strings ?" remarks a second. " She's one 
of 'em," observes a third, at the same time knocking the 
ashes off his half-finished cigar, w^ith the forefinger. By 
this time the young sprout has stowed away his companion, 
w4iere she can brush the dust from her clothes, and take a 
cool brandy-smasher at her leisure. The aforesaid dashes out 
into the verandah, to pick up some one to drink with him. 
" Halloo, Dick ! how long have you been here ?" " Only a 
few minutes," Dick answers. '• Well, suppose you join me in 
something to drink. I want to clear my throat of the dust 
— its awful dusty to-day." 



THE ABBEY. 53- 

Up they swagger to the bar, and call for drinks with as 
much assurance as if it was an honor to be thus blustering 
about this place, and desecrating and profaning the holy 
Sabbath with licentiousness and blasphemy. Oh, young 
man ! remember " the way of the transgressor is hard," and, 
too, that " the fashion of this world passeth away." 

See ! see ! there's an equipage on the magnificent order 
— a phaeton, four in hand, and in livery. I admire that 
livery. Look, about six yards of ribbon (white, blue, and 
red), four and a half streaming out behind from the driver's 
hat. " Who is that fellow on the back seat ?" asks an inquisi- 
tive bystander, seeing a stranger among w^ell-known faces. 
'' That is Potter, from Boston, down to York on a busty 
" He's 07ie among many sure," adds another, Out they get 
— dash up stairs to a private room, where they eat, drink, and 
carouse to the tune of an " L.," and leave as drunk as loons. 
That is an Avenudle party, showing a brother chip of Boston 
the way things are " done up" in Gotham. 

Who's this with the " up-heady" grays ? That is young 
James of Upper-tendom. He has lots of money in the hands 
of a guardian. He spent it a little too freely, and it w^as 
thought prudent to appoint a trustee. I think it was ad- 
visable. 

Here's old Mr. McK y; every body knows him ; he 

is a regular visitor. An old bachelor of fortune, who spunges 
himself upon the young bloods, in order to let them know 
that old people countenance these bacchanalian revels. 
The crowd now begins to thicken, and the arrivals are too 
frequent to particularize, so we will turn into the drinking 
saloon, to see what is going on in that quarter. 

There stands a bevy of young gents discussing the qua- 
lifications of their respective teams, and testing the proper- 
ties of Otard brandy. That tall chap is Capt. E, , who 



64 THE ABBEY. 

only frolics on Sunday, or when he chooses. That heavy- 
set fellow is Cornelius V s, who keeps a swell head 

livery stable in street, and only drinks when he is sick 

or wants it. That large flat-nosed fellow is Yankee Sullivan ; 
he looks a little the worse of w^ear ; belongs to the temper- 
ance society, with two exceptions, only to drink when he is 
at home or abroad. 

That heavy-set chap with the white vest, red face, and 
ponderous watch-chain, is the proprietor of the Abbey, who 
only takes a drink whenever invited, not because he loves it. 
but only to add to the receipts in the change drawer. It is 
currently reported that he is getting rich at the rate of a 
hundred dollars per day. I trust it will be able to heal his 
lacerated conscience, as it must be much worn and soiled by 
the manner in which he gets his living. 

See through those half-closed blinds ; there is a private 
party enjoying the good things of life at an extravagant rate ; 
they are in a private room only. There is a wide difference 
between " private rooms" and " rooms private." The wait- 
ers understand what is meant, when a party orders "a rooin 
'privateP 

Let us go out into the pistol-gallery, to see who is there, 
and what they are doing. 

The Yankees are not much of a pistol-shooting people. 
They cannot hit a tape string nineteen times out of twenty 
at the word " oneP 

This party is shooting by sight, like they w^ere lying be- 
hind a log at a shooting match, and of course "ring the bell" 
very often. Put them to the word, and nine out of ten will 
miss the " figure " half their shots. This is rather a dull set, 
and we will leave them to their amusement, and go into 
another part of the inclosure. Yonder is the gambling 
saloon in full blast. This people (I mean the North) is 



THE ABBEY. 55 

more of a gambling character than is generally attributed to 
them. They go to work coolly and deliberately. The north- 
ern gamblers, as a general rule, bet higher than southern — 
they do it to make money, and not for the excitement, as the 
man of the south does. When the southerner loses, he 
raves, and pitches, and curses, gets drunk, and probably 
gets into " a muss ;" but when he wins, he kicks up a fuss 
generally, and breaks things for the fun of paying the bill. 
Not so with the Yankee gambler — he sits down coolly and 
calculatingly ; if he wins, he quietly folds up the money and 
walks out ; if he loses, he may take a drink and a cigar, and 
out he goes, as if nothing had happened. You rarely, among 
respectable (a word wholly inapplicable) gamblers north, ever 
hear of a row at a gaming table. It is all done in a business- 
like manner, not for pastime or pleasure. 

Here is a party " fighting the tiger," and from the ap- 
pearance of the present position of the checks, the bank is 
getting the worst of the battle. It is a dull place — very 
little said — nobody asks any questions — not a word out of 
the regular business of the game. You see that young fel- 
low with the cigar cocked up nearly to his right eye, and his 
hat stuck, a la Broadway, on the left corner of his head. 
That is the same fellow I pointed out in the early part of the 
afternoon, young James. It is said that he has lost some- 
thing over sixty thousand dollars at this game. Now he is 
restricted to the interest of about seventy thousand, and is 
ahvays nearly without a dollar, particularly teyi weeks out of 
" the quarter." 

A man loses his individuality in this sea of people, and if 
he pays his way, he can do just as he pleases, and it is all 
right, for " every body does it." 

At the Abbey no respect is paid to the Sabbath, only that 
it is the gala day, if there be any difference. It is the fash- 



56 THE ABBEY. 

ionable Sunday resort for erery body — every body goes to 
the Abbey, so it must he right. There is one consola- 
tion, if it is wrong, tliey are in a large company, but will this 
avail them on that great day when all the deeds done in the 
body have to be accounted for ? I rather guess not. 

As night approaches, you can see them pairing off, and 
donning their linen sack-coats (all i)\Qfast men wear brown 
linen sack-coats to keep off the dust, and this coat is as much 
an appendage to the wagon as the checker-blanket is to the 
horse) for a drive home. One by one the teams are brought 
to the door if a woman has a seat, if not, the men go to the 
shed, and away they dash as if their lives were at stake. So 
soon as one gets out of the way, another sets off after him, 
and so on till all have left except a fcAV who are too drunk, 
which is rather seldom, and those Avho " go home with the 
gals in the morning P 

There are only tvro or three stopping-places on the Bloom- 
ingdale road below the Abbey. There are one or two above, 
between it and Manhattanville. One above is known as 
Claremont, or " Jones's," and a fine place it is, on the same 
'platform as the Abbey. There is one where only respecta- 
ble and civil persons, families, and lovers, (fee, go, Avho like 
to drive in the afternoon ; but this don't pay like the others. 
It is pleasant and refreshing to while away an hour at this 
place, watching the boats and vessels sailing up and down 
the Hudson. By the way. to-morrow we will take a boat, 
and go up to West Point. To one who never went up this 
river, it is the richest treat he can have in any country. It 
is a treat to the oldest Captain on the river. Be ready — we 
leave at 7 a. m. I'll call — we take breakfast on board. 
Good night. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



HUDSON RIVER. 



" Just in time, my dear fellow ; two minutes more and your 
sail up the river would have been vetoed," I remarked to my 
companion, as he hurried on board. " Good morning," he 
replied ; " how happened it that you got here ahead of me." 
" By early rising, of course ; how did you expect ?" " The 
steward, a careless fellow, would have let me sleep till dinner, 
I do believe." 

" All aboard !" shouts the Captain, and we move out into 
the stream, and turn our prow towards the mountains. 

" What a fine, bracing morning," I observed to my friend, 
as we seated ourselves in rear of the wheel-house, to screen 
ourselves from the head wind, a little. " Delightful," he re- 
plied, scarcely moving his eyes from the wilderness of ship- 
ping which lay alongside the wharf, fronting us to the right. 

After properly seating ourselves so as to get the best 
views as we passed, and igniting two cigars, such as would 
make the queen of Spain's mouth water, we calmly and in 
silence enjoyed the moving landscapic panorama before us. 
As we now approach the Palisades, the beautiful portions of 
scenery, and the romantic residences, I will describe them 
as we go on, to the best of my ability. It has been done so 
often, and so much better before, that I commence with re- 
luctance. 

3» 



58 HUDSON RIVER. 

There, that is the Orphan Asylum. It has the appear- 
ance of the Gothic architecture, but it is not the true style — 
not legitimate — though it approaches that order nearer than 
any other. It is beautifully located. This fine-looking place 
just ahead is Burnham's, a famous " stopping-place" for the 
" boys " on the Bloomingdale road. This opposite is " Bull's 
Ferry," a resort for " pigeon shooters," and boxing matches. 
This on the right is the celebrated " Abbey," of Avhich we 
saw something yesterday. It is a pretty place, eh ? Here 
on the left, is Fort Lee, a noted place in history, where a 
battle was fought in time of the revolution. It is the romp- 
ing ground for parties of school girls, to spend a holiday. A 
few persons reside here permanently. On the right you see 
Jones's Claremont House ; it is a magnificent place. The 
finest view is to be had from the piazza in front than from 
any point from Sing Sing down. Here is Manhattanville, a 
little manufacturing village, which will become part and par- 
cel of New-York in ten years. What a newish look it has 
about it. 

Here, see the Hudson River Rail-Road Cars as they fly 
along — that is fine — is it not superb ? See over the way, the 
Palisades have now commenced in good earnest. The houses 
are not so thick on that side as below Fort Lee. Those little 
huts and shanties are occupied by the stone-getters, who 
bear some resemblance, in manner of living only, to our shin- 
gle-getters. This is Washington Point. In rear, just over 
the hill, is where General Washington made his head-quar- 
ters for a while when in this part of the country during the 
war. I have been over there — it is the place for an army to 
repose in safety from surprise and attack. 

The residences which you see stuck along here are all 
summer resorts entirely, where the upper ten and aristocracy 
retreat, to enjoy this delightful air and retirement, free from 



HUDSON RIVER. 59 

the musquitoes, dust, and noise of the city. They are, most 
of them, handsomely and expensively furnished, and many's 
the love scene that is enacted hereabouts. There, that is the 
famous Forrest castle, called Fonthill. What a monkish look 
it has — a nunnery, eh ? It is built of gray granite, and the 
rooms are all circular. The more I look at it, the less able 
I am to describe it — it's a curiosity, and nobody but a mad- 
man or a fool would have built such a house. Look ! not 
an out-house, not one — not a flower — not a paling — not a fence 
— not a stable even. Did you ever see such taste ? 

Halloo, here we are upon Yonkers, a neat and recently 
built little village, wdiere many things, such as hats, carpets, 
and various other articles are made for market. .This is 
quite a thriving and beautiful place. New-York will be out 
here one of these days. Many live here and work or keep 
shops in the city. Would not care if I owned an acre or two 
here myself. 

Over opposite is " Lower Closter ;" where the name origi- 
nated deponent saith not ; but that is the name. Just above, 
on the same side, is " Upper Closter." There is an outlet at 
the lower place, from the river, so that a cart can be got up 
and down by winding about for an hour from crag to crag, as 
it were. See that handful of people squatted down there to 
make a penny or two out of the poor stone-getters. 

What scenery now presents itself — did you ever behold 
the like? What magnificence, yea, grandeur; the perpendicu- 
lar heights, rising four or five hundred feet above the water, 
resembling a wall built of hewn rocks, by man, decked with 
shrubbery and trees sufficiently to render it picturesque. 
Great, eh? — sublime. See the beautiful landscape on the 
right, dotted here and there with houses and flocks. 

This is Hastings, a very new settlement, which was 
turned from " a water tank " to a village — a very nice place. 



60 HUDSON RIVER. 

It may improve much yet. What lofty cliffs over the way ! 
Nothing in nature can beat that ! -wonderful, truly ! 

Here we have Dobb's Ferry, another of the water tank 
enlargements. This is what you may term developing the 
resources (but more aptly styled in this case recesses) of a 
country by a rail-road. Had the rail-road never been built, 
these thriving little villages would never have been reared 
up. They have been a source of great relief to New-York. 
Over the way is Nyack; that is one of the old ^^ residenters f^ 
nevertheless it has a thrifty appearance, yet will never do 
much, owing to the difficulty of getting to it. 

To the right, opposite Nyack, you observe the ever- 
renowned Tarrytown. Since the day Irving drew his pic- 
ture of Ichabod Crane, it has become a large village, quite 
so. The river, you will perceive, is wider here than any 
place between New- York and Albany. I would imagine it 
to be two miles or over v,ide. 

Here sits the village of Sparta, another of the newly 
gotten up towns. Just ahead is Sing Sing ; you see it is 
almost a city. Here is the Penitentiary, and various other 
large manufacturing establishments, which make it a town — 
not so pretty as some of the others we have passed — yet 
romantic ; there are too few trees — rather bald. Farther on 
we have Croton, another town of the new order — a small 
place — great many brick made there. 

Over the way is Stony Point, noted in the history of the 
wars ; a battle having been fought there, of which you are 
aware. 

We now approach the mountains — those hills you no 
doubt thought were mountains — here we have the Simon 
Pure. The river gets more narrow — much, and the scenery 
assumes the fanciful and grotesque, yea savage. Here is 
the rock of Gibraltar, not the rock which is said to be "firm," 



HUDSON RIVER. 61 

but the Gibraltar of the Western World ; and under it ap- 
parently the village which bears the same name. We are 
now forty miles from town. 

To the right, you see Peekskill. This is quite a manu- 
facturing place, celebrated for foundries, stove-making, <fcc. 
There you see " Anthony's Nose," 1,120 feet above the level 
of the sea ; over the way is Fort Clinton, and above is Fort 
Montgomery. Now the scenery is sublime beyond descrip- 
tion ; nothing can be compared to the view from this point 
of the river. On the left is Orange County, where all the 
milk is said to be from that is used in the city of New-York. 
Look when you go back, and you will find upon every milk- 
wagon you see, " Pure Orange County Milk.''^ 

You can now see the Sugar Loaf Mountain, which is five 
miles ahead, opposite to West Point, where we are to land. 
Here is the heart and beauty of the scenery on the river. 
Just where we are, see how near we approach that mountain, 
almost touch the boughs of the trees. Is it not grand? 

Here we are to land ; so get our basket of " pic-nics," 
as we shall need them before the boat on wliicli we are to go 
back will be along. 

We will now take our time to ascend the accli\dty, as it 
is a tedious undertaking to foot it up these mountain brinks, 
I tell you. After we have gotten up about half way, we will 
rest, and take a look at the young village of Garrison, the 
cars, sloops, schooners, and steamboats, as they pass "in pro- 
spective," as our old friend Shelton would say. Y^ou remem.- 
ber Shelton ? How I would like for him to be with us. 
What a fleet coming in sight ! Yonder comes the " down- 
train" — how beautiful ! and see ! the floating palace, " Alida,'' 
one of the largest and fastest, as well as the finest, boats 
on the waters. There, too, is the " Santa Claus," a smaller 
craft, but a pretty swift one ; — and that tremendous barge, 
how slowly it moves down — a sort of ark. 



62 HUDSON RIVER. 

Had we not better be moving, as the sun is getting hot 1 
The walk up to Cozzens's Hotel will be fatiguing enough, 
without the assistance of the rays of old Sol. 

What a beautiful place is Cozzens's ! This is really a 
mountain house. How delightful— how tastefully the flowers 
and shrubbery are arranged ! This is a fine hotel, it is said, 
though I have never tasted " of its quality." What fine, 
pure, sweet-scented air — what a romantic and enchanting 
spot ! Could the wish of man, which is exceedingly expan- 
sive, crave any thing more pleasant or delightful? Here 
rural felicity is enjoyed in all its pristine purity and 
sweetness. 

We had better take a hack and ride up to West Point ; it 
is near two miles, rather a longer walk than will be pleasant, 
at this hour of the day ; we can enjoy the scenery almost as 
well as if we were on foot. The road is an artificial one, 
made by cutting through the sides of the mountains. See 
what a precipice we are passing — how terrific ! Now we 
are within the gates where martial law is the order of the 
day. " No smoking allowed." 1 suppose we are near the 
arsenal — 3^es, there it stands. We are now in the parade 
grounds. That is the new building for lodging the cadets ; 
that is the church ; these are the residences of the professors 
along the base of the mountain, to the left. Suppose we 
get out and discharge our driver, as we can get on now with- 
out his aid. 

Oh, what a sight ! look ! This is the finishing touch of 
Nature's handiworks, certainly — this table, as it were, two 
hundred and fifty feet above the river, almost perpendicular 
above the waters. We will now take a stroll through " Flir- 
tation Walk," a path leading around the promontory, through 
the cedars, and over rocks to the wharf, at the upper point 
of the Point. This is Pulaski's Spring, a delightful place, 



HUDSON RIVER. 63 

eh ? Here is the monument erected to Major Dade and his 
little band of followers, who fell, or rather Y\'ere butchered, 
in Florida. This is an uneven path, but truly romantic. 
See ! here it descends to the water's edge. Now, we have 
to mount these rocks. See how the boys have inscribed 
them— '-Buena Yista," "Monterey," '' Molino del Key," 
" Chapultepec," " Cerro Gordo," are some of the inscriptions 
indelibly engraved here. 

Here is the dock ; we will now go up to the Hotel, where 
^ve can rest and get some water. Is this not a lovely, yea, 
enchanting spot ? look, there is Fort Putnam, hanging, as it 
were, upon the side of the mountain, some twelve hundred 
feet above us — a natural fortification ; we will not go up, as 
it is too difiicult a task. Now cast yourself about and be- 
hold the landscape upon the other side of the river. This 
above, is Cold Spring, a very thrifty and busy little vil- 
lage ; see those farms and houses dotted here and there among 
the mountains and valleys — could any thing be more pictur- 
esque ? it is sublimity in all its magnificent grandeur ! There 
see that little rivulet rippling down the mountain, it supplies 
the place with water. How romantic the idea ! Here we can 
feast our eyes on landscape views to our hearts' content. 
There is not a rod, and certainly not a quarter of a mile in 
the whole distance we have come to-day, which does not open 
up some new object of beauty in this interesting panorama. 
The towering mountains that lie all around seem to say " thus 
far and no farther," — the extensive picture which invites the 
gaze in front ; the placid waters of the Hudson, like molten 
silver, in the foreground ; the varied farms, cottages and 
forests, in the middle, and the blue mountain tops rising in 
mellow beauty till lost in the dim distance ; all combine to 
make up a scene on which the eye could dwell for a lifetime 
without being wearied. 



64 HUDSON RIVER. 

Halloo ! here comes an officer ; we can ask him a few- 
questions — he's quite a modest-looking chap notwithstanding 
his "soger clothes." 

" Fine day, sir," my friend remarked. 
" Yes, it is very pleasant." 

We wish to see the Cadets from the State of ; 

where can they be found ? 

" Two of them are in that squadron upon duty, the others 
are studying in their rooms." 

Will you have the kindness to show us their quarters ? 
we are from that same State, and would like to see them. 

" They cannot be seen in their rooms, but I will send two 
down into the officer of the day's office, and you can see 
them ten minutes — after two hours you can see them for one 
hour." 

We are obliged to you — we will be pleased to call after 
their studies are over ; if you will point out the place where 
the officer of the day is to be found. 

" In that building in front ; when you get there, you will 
find a sentinel who will show you his room." 

How Ions will it be before the drill in the school of the 
battalion takes place ? 

" That will come on at 5 p. m." 
Can we get lodgings here for the night ? 
" Oh yes— at the Hotel." 
How many young men have you here now ? 
" Gentlemen, duty requires my attention." Looking at 
his watch, hastily walked off as stately as if he had been fed 
upon ramrod soup all his life — in the direction which his 
duty called. 

" That's cutting matters short, eh ?" observed my com- 
panion. 

Oh ! it's part of " the regulations," and they have to obey 



HUDSON RIVER. 65 

promptly or get a reprimand from the Professors — they are 
allowed just so long to idle away their time with visitors ; it 
is all according to law. 

We now stroll about admiring the beauty of the place, 
the neat appearance every thilig wears, wondering that we 
had never been here before, till we seat ourselves upon the 
bench at the spring, where we do our duty to the basket of 
'• fixins" we had provided — to the tune known as " peas upon 
a trencher." 

After regaling ourselves with another sip of the delight- 
ful water, and arming our importance with a cigar, sallied 
back to witness the performance of the squadron of cavalry 
which was then under drill. Not being tactician enough to 
criticise the evolutions, shall hold my peace and let others do 
this part. All I can say is that I had never noticed a com- 
pany move about so well together, the horses, even, seemed to 
understand what they were doing. 

We will now move back towards the landing to wait for 
the boat. 

It was not long ere the New World hove in sight, and 
"rounded to" alongside the dock. A short horse is soon 
curried ; two passengers off and three on, and again we are 
floating down stream amid the noise and confusion attending 
the propulsion of the boat and the din of passengers. 

In due season we are again mixed wdth the sea of hu- 
man beings of Broadway, bending our steps towards the 
Astor, the head-quarters of my friend, much gratified with 
our trip up the American Khine. 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE PRESS. 



To properly classify the newspapers of New- York. I w^ould 

arrange them as follows : 

Dailxfs. I. — Those which have the largest circulation, 
and are devoted exclusively to publishing 
the news and transient advertisements, viz., 
the Herald (independent), Tribune (woolly 
head), Sun (neutral), and Times (Seward 
whig). 
II. — The mammoth commercial papers, which 
devote one-fourth or less of their columns to 
publishing all the important news matters 
of the day, all the other being filled with 
commercial advertisements, viz., the Cou- 
rier and Enquirer (whig), Journal of 
Commerce (democrat). Express (union 
whig). Evening Post (democrat), and 
Commercial Advertiser (whig). 
III. — The following, which have a smaller circi 
lation, are the National Democrat^ Morn 
ning Star^ Evening Mirror^ and Day 
Book. 
IV. — The French journal, Le Courier des Etal 



THE PRESS. 67 

U^iis, which is conducted with much abi- 
lity, and the tAvo German papers. 
Weeklies. I. — Weekly editions of the dailies. 
II. — Religious journals. 
III. — Literary do. 
IV. — Scientific do. 

y. — Sunday papers. ' 

VI. — Humorous do. 
Monthlies. I. — Literary, The Knickerhocker and Harp- 
er^s Magazine. 
II. — Political, Democratic and Whig Reviews. 
III. — Religious, etc. 

THE DAILIES. 

At the head of the heap stands James Gordon Ben- 
nett, and by his side stands that engine of. terror to all evil- 
doers, the Herald^ and there they are likely to remain as 
firm as the rock of Gibraltar. Bennett is, unquestionably, 
'• the Napoleon of the Press." Forrest, in one of his 
pithy speeches, said " he was the best abused man in the 
world ;" but this remark will apply much more justly to 
Bennett. To give you an idea of the estimation with which 
Bennett is held by those who are not personally acquainted 
with him, I will relate an anecdote. A few days since, I 
met a very respectable gentleman, who had never seen Ben- 
nett, and was not acquainted with his private character. The 
Herald was mentioned, and consequently Bennett's name, 
when this gentleman remarked, " that he put no confidence 
in any thing he saw in the Herald, except news articles, as 
he would not believe Bennett on oath." 

Since I have had a good opportunity to become acquainted 
with his private character, I will give you my idea of him as 



68 THE PRESS. 

a man — it being utterly unnecessary to speak of him as an 
Editor, for the world knows him in that light. In his 
habits he is as regular as the sun, or as the clock on Trinity 
Church ; yea, more so, that sometimes varies — he never 
does. Moral in his conduct as any man you can find in a 
day's travel, even in this dense population ; and I would rely 
upon his word with as much assurance of its being correct 
as I would upon John C. Calhoun's. To his family and 
friends his purse has no bottom, and I believe he has given as 
much or more to charitable purposes unostentatiously than 
Jenny Lind. I had as soon go to Bennett, though compara- 
tively a stranger with no claims, for a favor, as to any man 
I ever saw. I do not speak this from the card, but from 
having heard others speak, who had received his benefac- 
tion. In his intercourse and dealings with his fellow-men, 
he is particularly correct ; he pays his printers, and in fact 
all who are in his emplojanent, not only the best prices for 
their services, but promptly and without a wry face. Show 
me a man who can controvert this truthfully, and I will pay 
the disputed bill. It is proverbial with the printers, that 
" he who works on the Herald is sure of his pay." I do not 
eulogize this as a virtue; I. only mention it, because, from 
what has been said of Bennett, it is wrongly thought by 
some that he is tricky, and not disposed to deal squarely with 
mankind in general. 

Some few of his sub-editors (and he has lots of them) have 
from time to time, especially in his absence from the country, 
written and done things for which Bennett severely repri- 
manded them, when the facts came to his knowledge. I 
would as soon attempt to bribe Bennett to write or publish 
any thing contrary to correct principles, as to induce the 
President of the United States to commit high treason. 

As a politician (we cannot rank him as a statesman ex- 



THE PRESS. 69 

actW), lie has as clear perception and foresight as any Editor 
in the United States. His course for the last half-dozen 
years has been strictly national. The policy adopted by our 
Government, in many instances, originated with and was 
advocated by him. His ideas of retrenchment and reform 
and governmental abuses are lucid and practicable, and 
must, if our Government exists much longer, be adopted. 
The manner in which he advocates measures smacks of the 
Salmagundi, ex necessitate rei, having various editors, and 
not unfrequently is Jack-Randolphish. His style is not 
purely Anglo-Saxon, because he has not time to digest and 
critically correct his composition. The leaders are never 
stale or rehashed, and nine hundred and ninety-nine editors 
out of a thousand in a month's time would become dumb- 
founded, or compelled to revamp their leaders. Not so with 
Bennett. He is always new — ever varied and spicy. Ridi- 
cule is one of his great fortes, which is the strongest lever to 
operate effectually upon the minds of men. But enough of 
Bennett personally. 

The Herald is without doubt the greatest paper published 
in the world. It seems that it has its satellites, its news- 
gatherers, its runners, and its reporters, at every point from 
whence an interesting paragraph can be scared up in the inha- 
bitable globe. I have sometimes thought that "the unrivalled 
corps" were ubiquitous. The Herald pays upon an average at 
the rate of two hundred dollars per day. It is truly astonishing 
to know the amount of its daily expenditures. It is incredi- 
ble — yet at two cents a copy, it pays at the above ratio per 
day. Every thing is accomplished without noise, trouble, or 
confusion, and has attained what I consider perfection in the 
art of conducting a newspaper. The multifarious and com- 
plex business of this mammoth establishment moves on as 
smoothly and regularly as the machinery of a Collins' 



70 THE PRESS. 

steamer. Notwithstanding the great efforts at competition 
made by the proprietors of other newspapers, the business 
and prosperity of the Herald seem to be as great as if it 
had no rivals whatever. 

The Sun, the pioneer of penny papers, has, according to 
affidavit, the largest daily circulation of any paper in the 
world. Since the late separation of its proprietors (the 
Beach Brothers), I think it has decreased in value and circula- 
tion. It is taken only by the poorer classes, and I have never 
seen it in any first-class hotel, restaurant, or reading-room. 

The Commercial Journals. Of these the Courier 6^ 
Enquirer (whig) is the most ably conducted, is the largest, 
and I suppose has the best circulation, since its editors are 
men of more ability. and experience than are employed by 
the other commercial papers. Its page of news is prepared 
in a more entertaining style than that of the others. 

The Journal of Commerce advocates democratic princi- 
ples, but otherwise is of the same type as the Courier, 

The Express (whig) devotes more space to news than 
any other of these journals, and on the whole, may be said 
to be about half-way between the foregoing and the regular 
news journals. 

The Evening Post (dem.), edited by Bryant, gives con- 
siderable attention to politics. In 1848 it supported Van 
Buren for president, and advocated the Buffalo platform ; 
now it supports Pierce and King, and says little or nothing 
about platforms. 

The Commercial Advertiser (whig) is the most sober 
and unpoetical, moral, and piously disposed daily in the city. 
I never saw a humorous paragraph of any description in it, 
nor any poetry, nor notice of theatres ; but on the contrary, 
it has more religious news than any other. 



THE PRESS. 71 



THE WEEKLIES. 



1. The weekly editions of the dailies, for country circula- 
tion, are much larger than those of the dailies themselves, 
with the exception of the Sun. Of these the Herald doubt- 
less prints the largest edition, and certainly the best circu- 
lated ojie, for it seems to be equally distributed {i. e. accord- 
ing to the population) over the whole Union, whereas the cir- 
culation of some other papers is confined to a very fcAV states. 
The Tribime prints about as large a weekly edition as the 
Herald, but nearly one half are sent into the four states of 
New-York, Ohio, Illinois, and Indiana. Owing to its aboli- 
tion and Fourierite notions, very few copies cross Mason and 
Dixon's line. The Weekly Express is the largest sized 
and cheapest of these issues, and has a great circulation. 

2. The various organs of the religious denominations 
have a high position among American newspapers. They 
are ably edited, well printed, of very large size, and are 
furnished on very low terms, and consequently have large 
circulations, — each in its own denomination, — as, the Ob- 
server (Presb.) 30,000, Christian Advocate (Meth.) 33,000, 
etc. 

3. Of the amusing class are The Lantern^ Pick, Pica- 
yune, Traveller, and Reveille. The Pick seems to have 
the most wit. IVie Spirit of the Times is devoted to the 
interests of the sporting gentlemen, the turf, &c., &c., and for 
richness and raciness is unequalled. 



THE MONTHLIES. 

1. The Knickerbocker is, and long has been, the only 
original and first-rate magazine in this country. It is sim- 



72 THE PRESS. 

pie truth that none better is, or ever has been, published in 
Europe. Since the recent reduction in its price, its circula- 
tion has greatly increased. " Long may it wave !" 

Harper^s Magazine^ because of its cheapness, has at- 
tained a circulation of 100,000 copies each month. " Pro- 
digious !" 

2. The Democratic Review is now edited by George 
N. Saunders, who is one of the shrewdest politicians of the 
day. He understands human nature to a fraction, and can 
execute a coup d'etat with as much effect as Louis Napoleon. 
He was the originator of the "Young America" principles. 
" There is wisdom in his madness," and the hard licks which 
he has given to old fogyism within the last eight months 
have done more to prune up the tree of democracy and put 
it in a healthy state, than half the other editors of the United 
States could have done in eight years. 

The Whig Review is not now conducted with the ability 
which characterized its numbers when edited by Hon. D. D. 
Barnard and Mr. Whelpley. 



CHAPTER X. 



SHIPPING. 



Since New-York is the chief commercial city in America, a 
visitor from the interior naturally expects to see at its piers 
the finest specimens of sailing and steam crafts. But when 
he actually makes a personal examination of these steamers 
and ships, he is always greatly surprised at finding that their 
number is much greater than he had supposed — that they 
are so large and so well fitted up with every convenience and 
luxury. 

To take the most profitable glimpse at the shipping, let 
us commence at the Battery. Looking off upon the harbor 
we see ships whose different flags indicate that New-York 
has commerce with the whole earth. At all hours they are 
arriving and departing, and thus by these and other move- 
ments the harbor has, in its way, as busy an appearance as 
any street in the city. As in a street we see all kinds of ve- 
hicles, omnibuses, carts, etc., wdth characteristic freight, so 
here are a-ll kinds of craft — ships from every nation, loaded 
with their peculiar products — the emigrant ships, with their 
swarms of filthy passengers — American " liners," freighted 
with cotton and grain for Europe — the stately ocean steamers, 
bearing the national mails, wealthy passengers, the "balance 
of trade" to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars, 

4 



74 SHIPPING. 

and costly cargoes — steamboats, steamtugs fowing produce 
barges, ferry-boats, skiffs, excursion-boats, sail-boats, sloops, 
yachts, and pilot-boats moving to and fro in all directions, at 
all hours, and at all speeds, " through the water like things 
of life." 

At either side of the Battery, looking up the rivers, the 
masts of the shipping present the appearance of a dense for- 
est without foliage, and particular vessels are undistinguish- 
able. But, as in the streets of the city, those who pursue 
the same business have gathered together, so that the main 
portion of that whole business in New-York is transacted in 
that particular locality, so of the shipping business. Each 
division of it is mainly carried on in a separate locality. 

Thus, on the North or Hudson Kiver side, are found not 
only all the steamboats which run upon this river, but those 
belonging to the Boston lines, and nearly all the others. On 
this side, too, at different piers, are all the ocean steamships. 
The other principal classes of vessels upon this side are 
those lines of packet ships for France, Germany, and Conti- 
nental Europe ; second, the sloops from Albany and the 
river towns ; third, the barges (towed by steamtugs), which 
bring to the city markets the dairy and vegetable products 
of the river counties, and the same from Albany. 

As we walk along this river, we recollect that not forty- 
five years have elapsed since the morning when, from this 
very spot, Fulton started Avith his little steamer Claremont 
for Albany, and made the first trip in thirty-six hours — an 
achievement which was heralded through the country as the 
greatest wonder of that day. Now^ as you pass by these 
floating palaces, if you attempt to recollect all their names 
you are soon confused and baffled by their great number. 

Not stopping to inspect the live stock upon these numer- 
ous barges, nor to examine the country produce, we approach 



SHIPPING. 75 

those leviathan ocean steamships of the Collins line. While 
yet at some distance from them, so large and plainly seen 
are they, we stop to take a correct view of their exterior be- 
fore going on board to examine their interior arrangement. 
We admire their faultless model, their solid oaken sides — it 
inspires confidence in their strength—and the huge steam- 
pipes and paddle-wheels give assurance of American speed. 
We well remember (for it is a late date), that only two years 
have elapsed since this line commenced their trips, and that 
in those first voyages they bore away from their Cunard com- 
petitors the supremacy of the seas. Gen. Washington has 
not more indelibly imprinted his acts, his name, and his fame 
upon the pages of the history of the world than E. K. Col- 
lins — the one wrested the sceptre from a tyrant's grasp, the 
other the trident from the hand of Neptune. Although I 
am opposed to the principle that Congress should foster en- 
terprises not wholly national, I was gratified at the late ap- 
propriation for these steamships, as it is always gratifying 
for our nation to do a clever thing. E. K. Collins has, by 
his indefatigable perseverance, foresight, and indomitable 
energy, done more to establish the American character for 
improvement, progress, ingenuity, and invincibility in all 
undertakings, than any other man upon the Western Conti- 
nent. The gratitude of his country is due him for the fame 
he has, by his exertions for the supremacy of the seas, given 
it among the nations of the earth ; and the world is indebted 
to his genius for the model of the fastest steamer that moves 
upon " the briny deep !" 

Since there is nothing further to see upon this side, we 
w411 cross the island and look at the shipping in the East 
River. But first, look across the Hudson to Hoboken, and 
you see several large ship-yards where some of the best ships 
are built. Near them, I believe, are the grounds and the 



76 SHIPPING. 

rendezvous of the New-York Yacht Club, of whoni Com. 
Stevens is the chief man. He is well entitled to the praise 
he has received for his efforts in the promotion of naval archi- 
tecture as involved in the construction of the best yachts 
ever built. From what I have heard of him, I suppose that 
without his assistance those famous yachts, the Maria, the 
Arrow, and the A?nerica, which last year bore away the 
prize in the " Yacht Contest of All Nations," would not have 
been built. But let me not omit to mention the name of 
their designer and builder, George Steers, a self-taught me- 
chanic, who stands peerless in his profession. 

In crossing the city we will pass through the most pleas- 
ant streets leading that way, and therefore we will walk up 
beyond those extensive lumber yards which above the Col- 
lins pier front on the river for a great distance, until we 
come to E. 14th street (3 miles from the Battery) which is 
the first street of " up town " that extends from river to river. 
The houses in its whole length (3 miles, perfectly straight, 
and of uniform v/idth) are chiefly of the best construction, 
mostly free-stone, and are occupied by " the upper ten thou- 
sand." It is equally divided by Broadway, and at the inter- 
section is Union Place, the centre of the fashionable portion 
of New- York. Here at high tide you can see the glory of 
snobdom, the quintessence of codfish-ocracy, and the beau- 
ties of japonicadom. Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher, 
all is vanity ! 

But I have been digressing, and delaying you. As we 
approach the East River we see many huge ships building 
on their stocks in the numerous ship-yards which occupy this 
portion of the East River side. There are ship-yards, and 
at tmies there are building as many as 20 ships and steamers 
of the largest class. But to see the great ship-yards of this 
metropolis, where the business is carried on " rather exten 



SHIPPING. 77 

sively," you must look across the river to the suburbs of 
Williamsburgh and Green Point. All the men living in the 
latter place are engaged in ship building. At the present 
time, in the various ship-yards of New- York and vicinity, 
there are buildino; some twelve ocean steamers of the laro;est 
size, forty first-class ships, and aboui a hundred other ves- 
sels, steamboats, schooners, etc. Of late the building of 
large steamships and propellers has greatly increased, these 
beino; ordered instead of sailino; vessels. 

We leave these yards where this extensive business of build- 
ing these " monsters of the deep " is carried on without noise 
or confusion, and see before us huge chimneys belching forth 
clouds of black smoke, and approach the foundries and machine 
works where are cast and built the engines for the ocean 
steamers. You may form some idea of the business of these 
foundries, when, besides observing their great size, you learn 
that several hundred men are employed in each. Here we 
might pass a day with more profit than in the jewelry store 
of Tifi'any, Young & Co., in Broadway, or Stewart's Palace 
of calicoes. At one of these foundries they are building for 
the new Ericsson steamship, the Caloric engine, which it is 
expected will successfully use heated air as moving power 
instead of steam. 

Here are a host of oyster sloops, and the air is scented 
with the peculiar fragrance of the luscious bivalves, but we 
withstand the temptation to indulge in a " raw," for we are 
Aveary with our long peregrination and are anxious to cross 
our feet beneath the mahogany of the Astor. 

At the East River piers are found all the packet ships 
for Liverpool and London. Here we may see the "Great 
Western," " Queen of the West," and other ships, which 
when built a few years ago were by far the best in ex- 
istence. How we do improve upon the past ! Here is one 



78 SHIPPING. 

unloading, and-ive see that besides its full complement of 
several hundred emigrants, it has brought as many tons of 
English iron and cotton goods. There is one loading, and 
it will carry enough cotton and grain in its capacious hold 
to apparently supply the operatives of a factory with w^ork 
and food for a year. 

Here is Fulton Market, and from the basin in its front 
wdiich is filled with fish bin^ and the fish stands, our nostrils 
are again assaulted with a most fishlike smell. Adjacent is 
Fulton Ferry (to Brooklyn), which is and ever will be the 
greatest monument to the great inventor of steam pro- 
pulsion. At a charge of only one cent per passenger, this 
and the other ferries to Brooklyn (being a united company) 
have constantly running a dozen or more ferry boats wdiich 
are as perfect as could be desired. I cannot state accurately 
concerning the number of passengers conveyed thereby, but I 
know that these boats run as fast as possible all the while both 
day and night, and that there are always many passengers, 
and that at particular hours at morning and night they are 
literally crowded. 

Now we are among the packets for the Southern ports, 
and here truly are we reminded of home in seeing the 
countless bales of cotton which cover the piers, are piled 
upon the streets, and blockade the sidewalk — a familiar 
sight. 

The next piers are covered with hogsheads of sugar and 
molasses just discharging from the New-Orleans vessels. 

And now here are the ships up for California, and upon 
each is a huge canvas sign like this, " For San Francisco 

direct. The fast sailing Clipper, , A. No. 1, copper 

bottomed and copper fastened, having unsurpassed accommo- 
dations for passengers, will have immediate dispatch. For 
passage or freight, apply, etc." Of late the increased num- 



SHIPPING. 79 

ber of California steamers and consequent reduction in their 
prices, has lessened the number of passenger clippers, and 
those now " up " advertise chiefly for freight. 

But the piers now before us are surrounded not by ships 
but by an immense number of Erie and Western Canal 
boats. This vicinity is occupied by the flour and grain trade, 
and on the piers are long rows of barrels of the " Superfine 
Genesee." Hard by is the " Flour Exchange," and its meet- 
ings are about as important as those of the "Merchant's Ex- 
change" in Wall-street. 

And now we are again at the Battery. We have sur- 
veyed the present condition of the shipping interests of this 
great commercial city. From the natural advantages pos- 
sessed by New- York in its excellent harbor, in the peculiar 
form of the island, by which the actual growth of the city 
develops not only in itself a greater ability to sustain and 
increase its prosperity, but at the same time duplicates itself 
in its suburbs across the rivers, in its healthiness, etc. ; as 
well as from the artificial advantages it possesses, in its pre- 
sent leading position, in the arrangements made for the health 
and comfort of its population, and in its lines of communica- 
tion by land and sea with the whole Union, it is perfectly 
clear that its ■ prosperity is destined to be permanent and to 
increase with each succeeding year. My imagination is un- 
able to picture in detail the condition of this city a century 
hence ; but judging from its past history and present condi- 
tion, when in some points of magnificence it rivals the capi- 
tals of the Old World, I have no doubt that it will then sur- 
pass in its metropolitan splendor all cities ancient and mod- 
ern ; and for all this it will be mainly indebted to the original 
enterprise of those men of this generation who have estab- 
lished these lines of ships and steamers and thus have made 
it for ever the chief commercial city of this continent. 



CHAPTER XL 



HOTELS. 



We have been travelling by coaches from place to place over 
the city, and by steamboat up and down the Hudson, for 
several days — now I propose a little expedition per tele- 
graph ; assuming that, " by imagination man can travel 
through the abstruse regions of this philosophical world." 

As many of our Southern friends will doubtless wend 
their way North this season, to spend their hard earnings 
among those who seek to destroy them, as wxll as their pecu- 
liar institutions, it may not be amiss to post them up in the 
matter of hotels, which is, by the way, an important item to 
the wayfaring man. 

At the Charleston Hotel a man can get all the comforts 
that can be got at a hotel, and it may be set down as the best 
one South of the Potomac. It is the finest looking building 
in the United States ; excelling the Astor, of New-York, or 
the Neil, of Columbus, Ohio. Let me not forget the Ameri- 
can, by Messrs. Kennedy and Hurst. This is a finely 
arranged and well kept house, richly meriting the liberal 
patronage it receives, and, judging from the appearance of 
things, is likely to maintain a very high stand, /always 
stop at the American — see no reason why I should forsake 
my " first love," if Daniel Mixer is in town. 



HOTELS. 81 

While we are talking about hotels South, by way of 
parenthesis, mark in the St. Charles of New-Orleans. 
This House has been recently destro3^ed by fire, but, like a 
phoenix, will rise from its ashes in November ; and if any 
hotel can equal the Astor, the St. Charles is that one. 
"When opened, it will be managed in a style superior, if pos- 
sible (which I seriousty doubt can he done), to that when at 
the zenith of its glory. Its proprietors are elevated gentle- 
men, worthy of the title of " Nature's Noblemen." When 
you visit New-Orleans, as you will doubtless soon, give 
them a call. Their motto is, " Let none go awaij dis- 
satisjiedP I'll vouch for their being "'worthy and well 
qualified." 

There is but one in Wilmington, North Carolina, that 
a man hunting good quarters, would think of stopping at, 
and that one is the Wilmington House. 

At Goldsboro' there is also but one ; that one is pretty 
fair for old Rip in the country. Good and substantial, but 
none of the extra touches. Weldon has also one, and it 
rather slim, " mighty runty. Major," as our friend Colonel 
Summer would remark. 

Petersburg has several ; the best of Avhich is the Oro- 
noko House ; and it is nothing extraordinary. The Rail 
Road Hotel is a rough-and-tumble sort of place, but one gets 
good and solid " old Virginia never tire." At the Oronoko 
there is a flourish or two towards first-water doings. 

Richmond supports several very fine looking, as well as 
well kept hotels, viz., the Exchange, American, City, and the 
Powhatan ; and, by the by, the Columbian. At the Colum- 
bian you get the real simon pure old Virginia fare (charged 
$1,00 per day), and the worth of your money. The Ex- 
change and American are the swell-head houses, and must 
be ranked among first-class hotels. There are several se- 

4^ 



82 ' HOTELS. 

cond-rate houses, wliich a person who is merely travelling 
through, would never hear of, unless all the rest Avere filled, 
viz., the Rail Road Hotel and Broad Street, etc., etc. 
Fredericksburg I must beg you not to stop at, as this is 
"the finished town" of the western continent; and I 
believe the only one except Hillsboro', in Loudon county, 
Virginia, in which place the oldest inhabitant does not 
remember when the last new plank was nailed down. It 
will pay to visit Hillsboro', and we will go there one of these 
days. Alexandria we pass, though for the last five or six 
years it has been shaking off the old clothes and coming out 
in a new dress, and now commands the title of an improving 
town. We are at Washington City, where good hotels ought 
to be kept, as here the w^isdom, as well as wealth of the 
States most do congregate. We will take them in the order 
they come as we go down Pennsylvania Avenue from the 
White House. Williard's Hotel is a fine s^nd fashiona- 
ble house — well kept, and where the "swells" and bon ton, 
who are not here on duty, stop. The Irving Hotel is of 
the same class, and about equal in every respect. Next 
comes Brown's " Indian Queen," the democratic house, 
where the democracy mingle. Aspirants for place gener- 
ally stop here ; and it is kept in rather a loose way to suit 
quiet people, though expensively. The National is the 
whig house, where every body stops, big, little, old, and 
young — a perfect jam all tbe session. Would as soon be in 
bedlam for the same length of time. Here the operators 
and wire-workers and hangers-on vegetate. A good house, 
well kept, but too much of it. Then there is Gadsby's 
Hotel ; it is one of the "has beens" of the style on which 
the United States is kept ; is now making money on what it 
has been — a quiet and good house. But I would advise no 
one to stop at a house that is living upon its reputation 



HOTELS. 83 

alone. We may as well walk into the Potomac House, a 
nos^t little half and-half-house, between the private boarding- 
house and the hotel. It is a clever little house, and deserves 
attention. The Temperance Hotel, by Mr. Beers, I can- 
not say, not being acquainted, but will put it down like all 
other* temperance houses, rather dull places. Don't under- 
stand me as advocating the use of rum. Far from it. 

Baltimore has for a long time had the reputation of hav- 
ing the best kept hotel South, and so she has (Barnum's 
being the one heretofore, but like Gadsby's is now living on 
its good name). The Eutaw House bears oif the palm. 
This is the house of all the houses. Quiet, fashionable, ex- 
pensive, high living, luxurious. If any thing good is to be 
had in market, Jackson's got it already. No man can 
grumble at a bill of Jackson's. Try him, and you'll give 
it up. Then there is Guy's, American, Wheatfield, 
Fountain, and one or two others, all of the common order 
— fair to middling. 

Philadelphia has at last got a really ^we strung house 
— the GiRARD. Jones's is living on its reputation, and 
will soon die, as it, like its patrons, gets short allowance. 
The United States is generally crowded to overflowing, 
and therefore cannot give that which the proprietors would 
wish — comfort. It has recently changed hands. The 
Franklin, I think, will build up a good name, as things 
look about right. The Columbian is a pretty fair house, 
but not having tested its qualities, will not venture an opin- 
ion. There are several others, Barnum's Butler House, 
and Jones's, No. 2 (European plan), all of the common or- 
der, about as you would find in Lincolnton or Morganton, 
North Carolina. The Quaker city has never, until recently, 
been able to boast of a good hotel ; why, is more than 
strange, as she " sports " the finest market in the United 



84 HOTELS. 

States. The Girarcl, however, redeems her heretefore re- 
missness of pride as well as hospitality. 

But we pass on to the Empire City, and take her hotels 
as they come, right and left, and do justice to all if the 
heavens should fall. I have taken up more time than I 
intended in AYashington, for this reason : I want our people 
posted up, as they generally stay some time among the law- 
makers. Here we are at the Battery. 

AVe will be as brief as possible, as we have many to 
notice and a long ways to go ere we get down from the wires. 
Here we are at the Washington. This house is worthy of re- 
mark, only in consequence of its having been the Head-Quar- 
ters of General Washington at one period during the Revolu- 
tion. It is kept on the European plan, and sports fine punches. 
Next comes the Atlantic. Before the great improvement 
and number of hotels, this was quite a place of resort, being 
near the Battery. But its days are numbered, for, having 
outlived its usefulness, it will be closed next May, and re- 
membered among the things that were. 

Delmonico's. — This has long been considered the best 
hotel in the city upon the European plan, but now has certain- 
ly found a by no means unworthy competitor for its long and 
well-earned patronage in the St. Denis, recently erected, 
and of which we will take notice wdien we get up to it. 
Here you pay for what you call for, and may order what you 
please. It is chiefly frequented by foreigners, and by 
French and Spanish gentlemen and their families, from the 
South and West. 

Judson's. — This hotel, kept by its present proprietor 
since 1846, has enjoyed a great run of patronage, and main- 
tains a good reputation. It will change its phase this fall to 
the " European plan." We wish it success. 

As we pass up Broadway, we perceive that the increase 



HOTELS. 85 

of business lias demolished all those hotels which, years ago, 
when we first visited New-York, welcomed us — as, the City, 
the New England, the Tremont, R-athbun's noted 
hotel, and the Franklin, — the Howard alone being left to 
maintain the reputation of all its contemporaries ; and, judg- 
ing from what we have seen, it is likely to do it. Few leave 
this house after once tasting its qualities. The proprietors 
are not only gentlemen of high standing, but hospitable and 
urbane. 

Look down Courtlandt-street, and you see the National, 
Western, Merchants' and Taylor's Temperance House, 
— all of the same kidney, — I would as soon go into one 
as the other. They are frequented entirely by country 
merchants, are generally full, and always in a bustle. It is 
astonishing to witness the " cut and slash " manner in 
which every thing is done at these hotels, especially in the 
eating line, which business is done up in extra double quick 
time, reminding one of the scene at a refreshment station 
on the Erie Railroad, " Only five minutes, gentlemen !" 
" Twenty-five cents a-head !" " Have change ready, gents." 

As we pass Dey-street, Ave stop to admire the great im- 
provement recently made in the appearance of this street, 
and observe therein a new hotel, the Dey-street House 
(European plan), which is kept in first-rate style. " A new 
broom sweeps clean." In this vicinity is the Pacific, in 
Greenwich-street. This is a good house — is the best off 
of Broadway except the Clinton. For a time the business 
in this vicinity has been gradually creeping away, but since 
the grand improvements in Dey, Courtlandt, and Liberty- 
streets, the Pacific must again assume its wonted impor- 
tance, and become, if possible, more profitable to its gentle- 
manly proprietor. 

But here is busy Fulton-street, and if we can ever dodge 



86 HOTELS. 

across, we will take a look at the United States, near the 
Brooklyn Ferry. This was the first of the mammoth hotels 
erected in this city, having been built several years before 
the AsTOR. It was then called after its proprietor, Holt's 
Hotel ; but, by many who thought this enterprise hazard- 
ous, " Holt's Folly." It is now tolerably w^ell kept, and 
besides permanent boarders, is mainly supported by sea cap- 
tains. But not caring to risk life and limb, let us pass on to 
Earle's on Park-row. This is a $1 25 house, good for the 
price, and patronized principally by Connecticut folks. 
Looking further to the right, we see Love joy's, Tammany 
and French's, each on " the European plan," the resorts 
of all those economical country people, who are " penny 
wise and pound foolish," and California adventurers. All 
these, with their kith and kin, are hard cards. 

Hard by, opposite the Park, in Beekman-street, is the 
Clinton, formerly kept in good style by the Lelands (now 
of the Metropolitan), a comfortable and very quiet house, 
now by A. B. Miller & Co. 

This has been the most successful hotel in the city, and 
has a world-wide celebrity for good dinners ; and, although 
the house is not as new or as elegant in its appointments, as 
some more recently constructed, the excellence of its cuisine, 
the neatness, order, and quiet which pervades every depart- 
ment, together with the promptness and attention of the 
proprietors and servants, renders it one of the most desir- 
able houses in the city. 

As a matter of course, this hotel is well patronized, par- 
ticularly by Southerners, many of whom have been constant 
guests for more than twenty-five years ; this is owing mainly 
to the excellence of the house, as above mentioned, and partly 
to the beauty and eligibility of its location ; as it fronts on 
the Park, in full view of Broadway, but just sufficiently 



HOTELS. 87 

removed from the great thoroughfares to avoid the unpleasant 
rumble and jar of the omnibuses and other vehicles, Avhich 
renders a sojourn in hotels located on these streets so dis- 
agreeable. 

Turning to the left, the Astor, the Monarch of all 
Hotels, looms up before us. What an edifice ! How 
grand, imposing, and how massive ! Built " not for a day 
but for all time," its huo;e front of ever-endurins; o-ranite 
presents a striking contrast with the frail structures of brick 
and mortar which surround it. 

When in May, 1836, it was opened to the travelling 
public it was regarded throughout the earth as the eighth 
wonder of the world. Among the various projects which in 
Europe advancing civilization had there developed for the 
benefit and practical comfort of humanity, it had never oc- 
curred to any one, that in order to fully promote the com- 
merce of any mart, great attention should be given to the 
hospitable entertainment of foreign traders. The city of 
New- York led off with this idea, and no sooner thought of 
than executed. 

The Astor House erented as a hotel, was built at a 
greater proportionate cost than any royal palace in Europe. 
To this day no other hotel of equal magnificence has been 
erected, and though possible, hardly probable that this 
age will produce one. The apirit of competition has brought 
into existence many fine hotels, and for this reason it does 
not loom out in such bold relief as formerly ; but it has not 
lost its high position, and yet is emphatically The Astor. 

At most first-class hotels at this day the fare is about 
the same, but there are many little attentions to be had at 
the Astor, which you cannot or rather do not get any 
where else. CalljTor what you please, when you please, and 
where you please, it seems, from the readiness to serve you, 



88 HOTELS. 

that the waiter had anticipated your wish. The bill of fare 
given to the guests at this house is merely a suggestive one 
— the real one is the market from tropic to tropic. The pro- 
prietors of the AsToR have no use for a servant who will 
tell a guest that his order cannot be filled or " it's out ;" and 
if one is reported for such offence he is discharged, without 
benefit of clergy. Other hotels have their peculiar good 
parts, but the Astor carries up more points of a hotel than 
any which we have ever had the good fortune to meet. In 
addition to this, these gentlemen {in its strictest sense) have 
contributed more to elevate the character and standing as 
well as science of hotel keeping than all others in this busi- 
ness put together. In fact, they have rendered it a pro- 
fession. Long may they live to enjoy . their well-earned 
fame and prosperity. There's but one St. Peters, one Niag- 
ara, one Astor House ! 

Having detained you longer than I had anticipated, we 
now cross the way to the American. The first remark in 
relation to this house is that it is the rendezvous of the 
Army and Navy and West Point Cadets. This hardly 
comes up to a first-class house. " Rather low flung." 

Bixby's. — This is the most quiet and pleasant hotel on 
the European plan in the city, and is worthy of the lib- 
eral patronage it receives, and is destined to make a fortune 
for its owner. When you come here without a family, try 
Bixby. He lives at the corner of Broadway and Park Place. 
It will do. 

As we pass Murray-street you see the Manhattan 
Hotel, formerly Butts', situated near Broadway. It is a 
$1,75 house, and maintains its rank, so-so. 

The GiRARD is a new hotel lately built, and recently 
greatly enlarged, and improved by a chan<^e of proprietors. 
It is kept upon the European plan, for families, and located 



HOTELS. 89 

immediately opposite the terminus of the Hudson River Rail- 
road. For persons passing through New-York en route for 
West Point, Saratoga, &c., (fee, intending to make a short stay- 
in New-York, this house is most desirably situated. Besides 
other inducements, there is that of the entire saving of hack 
hire and freedom from the abuse of hackmen. To all such I 
recommend a trial of Messrs. Davis and Daman. 

The Carlton is a $2 house. Here the quiet families 
from the rural districts of NcAV-l^ork Avho come here to shop, 
stop. 

Florence's. — A fair "European-plan" house. Here 
and at its half brother — the City Hotel, the fast young 
men of the town are found. 

Now crossing Canal-street, we approach the up-town 
hotels. 

The first, having a most beautiful, grand, classic and im- 
posing front of white marble, is the St. Nicholas, which 
bids fair to eclipse all its up-town contemporaries. It has 
not been opened, yet I can speak in prospective. Judging 
from the elegance and magnificence with which every thing 
has been gotten up, and the well-established reputation of its 
energetic and intelligent proprietor, Mr. J. P. Treadwell, 
who was for many years " mine host " of the Franklin, 
this will undoubtedly be the Ultima Tlude of the tip-top 
hotels up-town, and surpass them all in the elegance and 
splendor of its apartments, and in the luxurious and 
recherche character of its table d'hote. The superiority of 
the best hotels arises in a considerable degree from their 
having been built expressly for that purpose. The St. 
Nicholas was thus erected, and in architectural arrange- 
ment it has no superior. The most desirable feature of a 
hotel, and I consider this the best, is, that the vast business 
is conducted without noise, trouble or ostentation. This 



90 HOTELS. 

perfection can only be attained by long experience, and 
hence we are sure that this great St. Nicholas, with its 
multitude of busy inmates, and multifarious duties and vari- 
ous departments, will move on under the direction of its 
veteran lessee, Mr. Treadwell, as smoothly and regularly as 
the massive and complicated machinery of an ocean steamer. 
Besides his ability as a model host, the personal popularity 
of Mr. T., who is the personification of gentlemanly cour- 
tesy, will ensure permanent prosperity to the St. Nicholas. 

The CoLLAMORE, Opened a year ago across the way, is 
a good house, not very large, but quiet and comfortable. 

The Prescott House, just erected, is an ornamental 
building. Not yet opened. Captain Degroot, who is the 
proprietor, built and run the fastest steamer on the Hudson, 
and is now trying to build and keep iYiQ fastest hotel. If the 
St. Nicholas don't keep a weather eye open, the Prescott will 
take the lead. I Avish the Captain success, according to his 
merit, which is no little. 

The Metropolitan has assumed a very high position 
as a hotel, and from the extravagant expenditure for its fur- 
niture and other adornments, I would presume that its pro- 
prietors intend to run it as far up the ladder of fame as is 
possible. The reputation of these gentlemen would warrant 
a prophecy that it will not fall short of this assumed position. 
It will require time to establish a justly merited reputation, 
— and a good amount of it. There is a great amount of gin- 
gerbread splendor and dash. Query — Will the comforts be as 
prominent as these latter commodities ? I think not. Wait 
for their reputation, then go. 

Passing the Bond Street and Waverly, we come to 
the New-York Hotel. The New-York is justly entitled 
to be ranked among the tip-top hotels. Here many snob 
families board by the year. There is a great deal of style 



HOTELS. 91 

and fashion in the management of this house. It is generally 
full. 

The St. Denis, opposite Grace Church, was opened this 
summer. It is kept on the European plan. It is mainly 
filled with wealthy families, chiefly French, who each have a 
private table, there being no table d'hote. It is very much 
like Delmonico's, but more elegantly built and furnished. 

The Union Place Hotel. — Several years since the in- 
creasing wealth and numbers of upper-tendom (of which the 
New-York Hotel was then the head quarters), demanded 
for their accommodation a new hotel, and the Union Place 
Hotel was the result. This is kept in equal style with the 
New-York, and the charges are a grade higher. Rather 
more expense than attention. " Too much pork for a shil- 
ling." 

Leaving Gotham, we stop a few moments at Springfield, 
at Uncle Jerry Warriner's Union House, to refresh our- 
selves. This is kept in first-rate city style, as every body 
knows. Now to Boston. 

"We stop at the Tremont, it being the first of the Bos- 
ton hotels, and one of the best in the United States. We 
rank the Revere along with it, kept by the same proprietor. 
Next come the Winthrop, Adams, and United States, 
all being first-class houses. The Abierican is the best 
$1,50 house on this continent. At Cambridge the Brattle 
House is worthy of its fame. 

At Portland we find the United States, American* and 
Elm houses, all fair for down East. At Brunswick, we find 
the Tontine and Mansion houses, ditto, ditto. At Bath, 
the Sagadahock, the best house in Maine. At Augusta, 
the Stanley, Augusta, Cushnoc, Mansion, and Temper- 

* Recently burnt down. 



92 HOTELS. 

ANCE houses, all of them put together would not make one 
good hotel. At Bangor, the only hotel worthy of note is the 
Bangor House, which is A No. 1. 

Having posted you up as to where you will get all the 
comforts for the " inner" man, now I will tell you where you 
may get the " outer man" adorned. 

Come, let us go over to Genin's, 214 Broadway, (who ever 
goes any where else for a hat 7) If you want any thing for 
your children, go up to the St. Nicholas, to " Genin's Ba- 
zaar," 513 Broadway, and there you can have them fitted 
out in the latest style. Genin is "one of them, sure" — a 
great worker — and leads in his trade. The only objection I 
have to him he is anti-republican. " Why ?" Because he 
croums every man he can. 

If you want a suit of clothes, go to W. T. Jennings, 231 
Broadway ; he gets up about as decent a fit as any tailor in 
the city. Try him — you need a suit — come along. 

Should you need any thing in the jewelry line, give 
Tiffany, Young & Ellis a call, as they have all in their way 
that can be got on this side of the Atlantic. If you can't 
suit yourself in their establishment, you'll have to take one 
of Collins' steamers for Europe. They have the largest 
and most costly establishment in the United States by long 
odds — having more diamonds than any two houses in New- 
York. 

For boots, go to Richard Mycocth, No. 11 Montgomery- 
street, Jersey City ; he being the best bootmaker in the 
world. 

Having had enough of hotels we will jump down from 
the wires and rest for the night. To-morrow we will take a 
look at " The Five Points,^'' both by day and night. The 
contrast with that which we have been seeing and talking 
about during the last hour, will be striking. We have seen 
the glory of the North, then we shall see the shame. 



CHAPTER XII. 



FIVE POINTS. 



To form an accurate idea, we must see^ not read of, and this 
more especially applies to the famous " Five Points " in 
New- York city, than most other places — scenes and incidents 
ca7i be, and if worth describing at all, are often so well drawn 
in the mind's eye of the reader, that when he meets the 
reality, is generally apt to recognize some, if not all, the 
striking features. Not so with the Points. I have never 
seen any thing which has been written about this noted 
place, that gave any idea of it. I might have hunted the 
city over till doomsday in vain for it, even with a description 
in my hands. It appeared from what I had read to be some- 
where up town, and had I been let alone would have sought 
for it somewhere in the neighborhood of Union Place. 

We shall not need our hack, as it is only a short distance 
from the City Hall. Have you got a good supply of cigars ? 
— if not, get some, as we shall need them while prowling 
iibout among the filthy cellars and the malaria which en- 
v^elopes that region of the city. Let us go up Broadway to 
Anthony-street, thence east down Anthony to the Points, it 
being only three short blocks, passing Elm and Centre streets 
\o the citadel of this notorious rendezvous of crime and 
poverty. 



94 FIVE POINTS. 

Up and down Orange-street, you will observe make two 
of the points, then Cross-street coming diametrically across 
Orange, make two more, and Anthony intersecting precisely 
at the cross, makes the five. There are several other similar 
junctions of three streets in the city, so that this fact is not 
so very peculiar ; but I suppose this particular locality be- 
came famous for its bad character and the peculiarity — 
hence the origin of the sobriquet. As we approached this 
place you remarked that every house became worse in ap- 
pearance after we left Broadway, till we crossed Centre- 
street. There it sinks into a sameness — like the degrees of 
crime, till you reach infamy, positive and hopeless. You begin 
to see the squalid, roisterous-looking, drunken females, sitting 
upon the door-steps, or standing round the counter of a 
drinking hole. The groups are from three to four in num- 
ber, not more. The children, poor little fellows, half naked, 
winter and summer, it is all the same, are seen moving from 
place to place, with a make-shift of a toy, or a piece of bread 
or a bone in their clutches, gnawing it like young dogs 
around a kitchen yard ; this is rather a hard-hearted remark 
or comparison, but it is so — poor little fellows, you are trained, 
as it were, from the time you can walk. You observe the 
acts of those around you, to steal, and drink beer, and gam- 
ble, but I cannot do you any good. It makes the heart of 
any good or kind-feeling man almost burst with pity and 
sorrow to walk through these wretched haunts. The grown 
persons, it is no matter for, in nine hundred and ninety-nine 
cases of every thousand — but the children, it is a crying 
shame, and the authorities ought to pass a law to take them 
away from the parent, unless she or he moved to some place 
where the child could breathe pure air, and once in a while 
see a good man or a good action. If they had not the pemiy 
to cross the ferry, make them leave this part of town and go 



Five point^^. . 95 

to some other, or give up the child. You stand as if you 
were horrified, and not able to move a foot. I had not ob- 
served you were not paying attention to my remarks. 

" Beg pardon, I was looking at that party of negro 
wenches talking to that saucy barkeeper, and those children 
rooting about in the gutter with the pigs, for crusts of bread 
and pieces of raw meat." All that is nothing, come along. 

" Well, where is the officer who promised to meet us ? I 
have heard said, it is best to have one along, had we not bet- 
ter stand here till he comes ?" interposed my friend. 

" Here he comes — we are ahead of you, Mr. . 

Please show us what is to be seen, and protect us from 
harm." 

" Oh, there is no sort of danger in visiting the Points 
now-a-days," replied the officer. 

See the squalid females, sottish males and half-starved 
urchins, perching about the windows, stoops and cellar doors, 
like buzzards on dead trees, viewing the dead carcass be- 
neath. The population of the Points is about equally divided 
between whites and blacks. The blacks however are, for the 
most part,. the rulers ; they own and keep a majority of the 
drinking and dance-houses. 

We now pass through this alley into the area and up a 
flight of rickety stairs. There lies a drunken female, scream- 
ing and yelling — only fit of delirium tremens. What a pic- 
ture of the frailty of our race ! We pass on. The next flight 
brings us upon a drunken beast in the shape of a man, roll- 
ing and pitching about upon the floor like a catfish in mud. 
Near by you see a poor little boy pulling at a piece of meat, 
the only meal he has had probably for twenty-four hours. 
Another fligh!",. We enter an eight-by-ten room ; what a 
scene presents itself — five or six bloated and haggard-looking 
brutes in human form are sitting or lying around the room 



96 FIVE POINTS. 

talking, some upon one thing, some upon another — all cursing 
and swearing in the most blasphemous manner — a sort of 
medley which is indescribable. At the stove sits a female, 
cooking a meal (I can't call it dinner, or supper, although 5 
P. M. — must designate it a breakfast ; as habits and customs 
of society are annihilated or disregarded here, the only meals 
that are eaten are breakfasts^ and they come but seldom) ; 
this female is now cooking that one, consisting of greens and 
pork. See that pallet of straw, with nothing but a blanket 
for clotJies^ and it looks as if it had never seen water. What 
destitution ! Not two shillings worth of furniture in the 
room, including the clothes upon the bodies of the inmates. 
These poor wretches pay a few shillings per week, and take 
the chances whether they get a meal or not ; they get a 
place upon the floor when they sleep at all events. 

You never knew the meaning of poverty and destitution 
till you SAW these people, did you ? " No, never, never." 

There are scenes and acts to be witnessed here which 
would make the blood of any man not accustomed to such 
sights almost freeze. 

But now it is time for Pete Williams's ball to open. Let 
us go down. We enter a cellar, where we see a few males 
and females, black, yellow, and white, seated or swaggering 
about the room ; as many males smoking segars and swear- 
ing off some story of the day. Upon a sort of platform sit 
two or three negroes representing the orchestra, and opposite 
is the bar, behind which stands a negro, or Pete (who is a 
negro) himself, dealing out whisky, tobacco, beer, and segars, 
at three cents a glass, or a penny apiece. The music com- 
mences, and out sally two or three cotillions of this piebald 
party, and away they whirl in a most disgusting and revolt- 
ing manner. The negroes seem to attract the most attention. 
What a commentary upon the authorities of the city. This 



FIVE POINTS. 97 

is certainly the most . Bah ! let us get out, my 

senses refuse to behold longer such scenes. 

For two or three hundred yards square there is not a house 
or person worthy of respect ; but all seem to partake of the 
polluting atmosphere which floats about, freely. 

However, you will observe that the missionaries and the 
mechanics have made a descent upon this outlandish and 
heathenish portion of the city, and have left their marks. 
You will notice several new buildings going up ; and as the 
officer told us at the beginning of our walk, it was safe here 
now. This has been brought about by the missionary. The 
glory and shame of the Eive Points, I am happy to say, are 
gradually departing, and the advent of better times is close 
at hand. A few more years, and this place will not be far 
behind some of the better portions of the city. It may be 
wholly purged and purified, I hope. The larger lights, in 
the way of stealing and other concomitant evils, have gen- 
erall}'' gone out, and are now hanging about Water-street. 
There it is said the better jpart (I mean the greatest villains) 
have congregated for their diabolical purposes. 

But enough, let us go home ; it is frozen music ; it won't 
pay ; the bitter overbalances the sweet. 

The records of the courts will show that there are more 
cases of crime presented at its bar, in the city of New- York 
alone, than all the South put together. In fact, there is 
more poverty, prostitution, wretchedness, drunkenness, and 
all the attending vices, in this city, than the whole South. 
This is a comment upon Northern institutions. When the 
Abolitionists have cleared their own skirts, let them then 
hold up their hands in holy horror at the slave-holder, and 
the enormity of his sins. 

To give you a correct and critical description of the Five 
Points would only disgust not benefit you. To speak the 



98 FIVE POINTS. 

truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, is more 
than I can be made willing to do upon paper. I have told 
you enough, in God's name, to convince you that the Points 
are the most disgusting in America. A visit only sickens 
the senses, and one seldom leaves this place without feeling 
that the enormity of vice witnessed, is greater than could ex- 
ist in this country, much less among the order and law 
abiding abolitionists. 

Here is the last quarterly report of the Chief of Police, 
and it appears that during the quarter ending June 30th, 
9,087 arrests were made, as follows : — 55 for assault and 
battery with intent to kill ; 1,291 for assault and battery ; 
72 for assaulting policemen ; 26 for aiding and assisting to 
escape ; 9 for attempting to commit rape ; 46 for attempting 
to steal ; 17 for attempting burglary ; 61 for abandonment ; 
55 for burglary ; 1 for bigamy ; 53 for bastardy ; 4 for con- 
structive larceny ; 1,337 disorderly conduct ; 5 for deserting 
from the army and navy ; 24 for driving without license ; 7 
for embezzlement ; 14 escaped convicts ; 14 for forgery ; 5 
for felonies ; 13 for fraud ; 218 for fighting in the streets ; 
175 for grand larceny ; 34 for gambling ; 91 for insanity ; 
2,165 for intoxication, 1,708 for do. and disorderly conduct ; 

15 for indecent exposure of person ; 14 for insulting females ; 
53 for keeping disorderly houses ; 220 for miscellaneous mis- 
demeanors ; 13 for murder ; 35 for obtaining goods by false 
pretences ; 818 for petit larceny ; 20 for picking pockets ; 
18 for passing counterfeit money ; 2 for perjury ; 5 for rape ; 

16 for robbery in the first degree ; 16 for receiving stolen 
goods ; 13 apprentices for running away ; 1 for selling liquors 
without license ; 6 for selling lottery policies ; 9 for threat- 
ening life ; 260 for violation of corporation ordinances ; 775 
for vagrancy ; 12,402 persons were lodged at the different 
station houses ; 1,300 lost children were restored ; 184 sick 



FIVE POINTS. 99 

and injured persons aided ; 42 persons rescued from drown- 
ing ; 54 fires extinguished by the department ; 359 stores 
and dwellings found open and secured ; 21 stray cattle re- 
stored ; 113 stray horses restored ; $13,133 92 money and 
property taken from lodgers and drunken persons, and re- 
stored them again on their discharge ; 17 gold watches, and 
58 silver ditto, restored to their owners. 

There are 6,004 places in the city w^here spirituous liquors 
are sold ; 1,566 of them being unlicensed — and 4,185 are 
open on Sundays. 

The effective police force on the 1st of July was as fol- 
lows : Captains, 19 ; Assistant Captains, 38 ; Sergeants, T6 ; 
Policemen, 803. Total, 936. 

1,242 cases were sent to the Corporation Attorney for 
prosecution, for violations of the city ordinances ; of these 
596 were for encumbering the sidewalks, and 264 for encum- 
bering the streets. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THE TOMBS. 



The Five Points may be termed a preparatory school for 
graduation in the Tombs, and many's the student who gets 
his diploma. We will go there directly, and hear the 
" charges" and " defences," till ten o'clock, when we can get 
permission to examine the cells and building generally. 
" The Tombs," or building called by that name, is hard by 
the Five Points, its greatest patron, being between Leonard 
and Anthony streets fronting Centre-street. 

Here it is, a low dark smoky-looking building, built of gray 
granite, or stone very much like granite, and resembles the 
idea we have of the dark and lonely tomb sure enough. 
When a transgressor is detained within its walls he is safe, 
no one in his senses would attempt an escape, he is therefore 
as secure as to his getting out, as he would be if dead and 
buried. 

We now go up the steps. See that group of children 
loitering about, it is nearly always the case at this time of 
day, they are here awaiting the return of their parents, who 
are undergoing an examination for commitment for the regu- 
lar term of the Court, or discharge. What a commentary 
upon the morals of this City, to see every morning forty or 
fifty little ragged children awaiting the examination of their 



THE TOMBS. 101 

parents. We pass into the trial room where sit the judges, 
■who are meting out the law to these unfortunates. Let us 
listen and hear what is going on in the Court. Hear that 
woman's tongue, she is a regular mad-cat I'll bet. She is 
abusing the poor sickly man who has made oath that, he is 
afraid of her injuring him personally, in common parlance, 
" siuore the peace against herP What a devil she must be ; 
no wonder the poor fellow is afraid of his bones being broken. 
It appears that a child of one of the party had been stealing 
a two-shilling piece, and the other attempted to correct the 
evil doer, whereupon a choking match occurred. Hear the 
parties themselves. 

" Yer honor, an had'nt I been out to wash for Mrs. Jenk- 
ings over the way for five shillings a day, and when I come 
back yer honor, what, but does yer honor ; suppose I had left 
a four-shilling piece and a two-shilling piece and two pennies, 
and whin I got back yer honor from the day's washing — me 
husband is a decent hard-working man yer honor, he was to 
work on the Rail Road and had'nt got back yet — and when I 
looked into the drawer to get the two pennies, yer honor, to 
buy some beer and a candle yer honor, the two-shilling 
piece was gone ; not a ha'put of it was left yer honor. And 
whin I told her she had ray two-shilling piece, that wicked 
mon there (yer need not shake your head for yer know what 
I am telling his honor is the truth) comes in and says, Mrs. 
O'Flanagin, the child is as honest as yerself ; could flesh and 
blood stand that yer honor, to be told to one's teeth that they 
was a rogue ? no yer honor, and that's what I am brought here 
for — I never was in such a place before, and I have been in 
this country these nine long years come June, and there's me 
little child there, if it could speak will tell you the same as I 
was telling ye myself, it would." 

The man, who looked as if a box of Cook's Pills would do 



102 THE TOMBS. 

Mm more good than a two-sliilling piece, then told his 
story. 

" My little girl had been playing in the yard, and when 
Mrs. O'Flanagin came home, she said that she had lost a 
two-shilling piece, and said the little girl had taken it, and 
I told her that the money might have been taken by her hus- 
band, and that the girl was probably as honest as she was ; 
whereupon she flew at me, and you see, your honors, how she 
tore my throat with her nails ; and had not officer Southard 
taken her off, I do believe she would have finished me." 

" Yis, yer honor, and had I made a finish of him I could 
have made a better looking man in an hour any time — he's a 
pretty looking object to be complaining of a poor feeble wo- 
man like myself ; he is a nasty, stinking good-for-nothing, to 
say that I would tell a bit of a lie for a two- shilling piece, 
yer honor, when I can support as good a character as any 
woman in this country." 

Here his honor put a stop to the case by ordering the 
said Mrs. Flanagin to enter into a bond to keep the peace 
for twelve months, (fee. 

There are lots of cases of every grade and hue from 
petty larceny to rape and murder, to be heard this 
morning, all of which would not be interesting to you ; so 
we will tkae a walk over the building to look at the criminals 
and the cells. 

There is the yard or apartment where the " Fine day 
boys" stay — Avhat a lot of them ; these have been sentenced 
to five days imprisonment for getting drunk in the streets 
and kicking up fusses generally. Along this alley or rather 
passage, you can see two or three who have shortly to be 
hanged, some for one thing and others for another. 

Here is one fellow in for passing counterfeit money, an- 
other for receiving stolen goods knowing them to be such. 



THE TOMBS. 103 

They are waiting their trials, when in all human probability 
some of them will be transferred to Sing Sing. 

What a horrid appearance every thing wears in a prison, 
and I suppose all are alike — they all have that sameness and 
dingy look, large black bars of iron, heavy doors and massive 
locks. It is not invitingly interesting either to be walking 
through this place or talking about or looking at its inmates, 
therefore we will go out and get a little fresh air, as this 
place has already made me a little squeamish about the di- 
gestive organs. 

We can speculate upon the causes which keep these cells 
always full, as well at our rooms or along the streets as here, 
and it is much more pleasant certainly. The thousands who 
daily land upon our shores are doing more to overturn our 
government than any one other cause. They not only cause 
an increase of taxation, crime, misery, poverty and death, 
but disaffection to our institutions generally. How can all 
this be avoided and not infringe upon the principles of a free 
and independent form of government ? We cannot say they 
shall not find an asylum upon our shores, neither can we 
send away, or upon another nation, the paupers from our 
midst. The other nations are daily sending their paupers 
here to tax and otherwise torment and trouble us, and we 
cannot retaliate. There is not a day that more or less of 
these miserable creatures do not land here, who are actually 
sent by some lords of England, or other persons, who find 
them a burden. Can we say — You shall not land, and yet 
can we support the ^^ paupei^dom^^ oi the world and "the 
rest of mankind?" This is a grave and important subject, 
one that has given my mind no little thought I can tell you. 
It is awful to contemplate the crowds that land from every 
vessel which touches our shores. There are several, yea, lots 
of ships now owned by companies in what is called the emi- 



104 THE TOMBS. 

grant trade, meaning they are the proprietors of the Emi- 
grant Lines. Ships, like steamers to the golden shores of 
California, making it a legitimate business, that of bringing 
over emigrants, and I think a steamer would make it a good 
business if built cheaply and put up expressly for emigrants. 

Go upon one of these ships, a peculiar and sickening 
smell meets you full in the face, something like that of a 
caravan of wild beasts ; it is so strong, even where the pure 
air of the sea has every chance to keep it down, that you 
cannot remain among it. I say among^ for that is the word. 
You can almost feel it. Dreadful. 

An average of forty-five thousand monthly, will, in time, 
over-stock the market. Don't you say so ? Forty thousand 
men, women, and children, many of whom are taken from the 
emigrant ofiice to the hospital, and from thence to the poor- 
house, and not a few to the j)oor -house from the wharf upon 
which they are landed. They do not bring a dollar to the 
country in any way, and no advantage, save to a very few 
indeed. Instead of diminishing, it increases, and that at an 
alarming ratio. 

How are we to get rid of this evil, and at the same time 
protect our " institutions ?" I have got a crude and undi- 
gested plan, which I intend at a future day to arrange and 
give to some leading journal for the benefit of our country, 
or for its readers to laugh at, and will tell you a few of the 
points. 

Let the corporations of New- York, Philadelphia, Boston, 
and a few of the other leading cities in which these poor devils 
land, or the State authorities, form companies and purchase 
lands from the government, appoint men to locate it, and 
when a ship landed to offer a home to them upon this land. 
Give each family fifty acres, and appoint men to teach them 
how to work, and to furnish provisions for one year, and all 



THE TOMBS. 105 

the necessary implements for properly tilling the land. You 
say they will not go ; well, we will see about this when the 
time comes ; wait a while. 

Had we not as well support them in the far west, where 
there is a chance for their doing well or their children, as in 
our midst, where, too, we are annoyed and fretted out of our 
lives with their crimes and misdemeanors ? 

First take all the convicts out of these walls which we 
have left, who are not under the sentence of death or under 
trial, and off of Blackwell's Island, and out of Sing Sing ; 
say to them, " Here is a home with a year's provisions, im- 
plements, &c., (fcc, go to work, reform yourself, be honest. 
You have this land for ten years, in which time you can pay 
the small amount it has cost us, say one hundred and fifty 
dollars, which is a large calculation, and the interest." Add 
to these all who would voluntarily go, and to these, the in- 
mates of poor-houses, and all who are now taxing the indus- 
trious, and you will have quite a host, as well as a rather 
bad kind of population to settle a country with. Is not the 
same now amongst us mixing with our children in sight al- 
most every hour in the day ? It is like a barrel of sour cider, 
will work itself out and become pure ; that community would 
become so in an age at least. Then look about and send all 
those who are likely to become a burden to the city. Those 
lazy curses, who would not go of their own accord, do not 
like to go of course ; well, in the search for those who are 
likely to become a burden you run afoul of these devils, and 
you say, you have to leave or go to work, and make the 
authorities believe you will never become a tax to them. 
This would make him go to work or leave. 

Our laws do not say where the paupers shall be fed or 
taken care of, and had we not as well take care of them out 
in the pure air of a western prairie as in the heart of the 



106 THE TOMBS. 

city ? If we find it cheaper and better to take tliem away 
to a new country, why not do it ? 

The company who bought the land and put these persons 
upon it would not lose any thing by the speculation, as the 
land would be improved and settled, and would always be 
worth what it cost, and should the family remain upon it ten 
years, it would only enhance the value. The buildings and 
the tilling would fit it for a man who wanted to " settle 
west." The children of these worthless husbands and their 
wives would pay in four cases out of five, yes, in forty-nine 
out of fifty. 

Here you see is philanthropy as well as interest prompt- 
ing. It is a good thing, and can be successfully carried 
out. You would not only be relieving the cities of a surplus 
tax and population, but building up a market for the articles 
manufactured for sale in this manufacturing country. 

Suppose the two millions of money paid to support pau- 
pers and criminals yearly, were laid out in lands at one dollar 
and twenty-five cents per acre, and put in condition for a 
small family upon every fifty acres, which would cost half a 
million more, this would take away tAventy thousand fami- 
lies ; would it not be better both for the poor as well as the 
rich ? the family would have a chance to do something ; as 
it is, it will be an increasing tax till it perishes or dies of 
old age. More of this subject another time and at another 
place ; it shall^ when properly digested, be given to the read- 
ing world, if I live and the printers don't object. Selah. 



CHAPTEK XIV. 



SEWING GIRLS. 



We have passed through the " rugged places " which loom 
up in the path of the transgressor, now we will look at the 
difficulties which beset the poor working girls, such as tailor- 
esses' and milliners' apprentices, hat and cap and shoe 
liners, &c., <fcc. 

See here — read this advertisement — " Wanted, 500 

girls wanted to work on pantaloons. Apply at No. 

street." Well, what of that 1 you ask ; it reads as if it was 
one of the largest manufactories of ready made clothing in 
the city, don't it.? " It does." 

Now let me explain, and you can be able to judge what 
kind of an establishment this is. An hour after the time 
for calling passes, you can see hundreds of girls flocking 
up stairs to get the work. I will give you the history of 
one, and it will serve as the portrait of tens of thousands 
during the year. 

" You advertised for hands on pantaloons this morning ?" 
she tremblingly asks of the man with the quill behind 
his ear. 

^' Yes, we want some hands this week ; do you want a 
job ?" he replies. 

" Yes, sir ; I would like to have something to do this 
week," answers the girl. 



108 SEWING GIRLS. 

" How many pair can you make ?" 

" I will try to get six pair done." 

The work being already cut out and rolled up into bun- 
dles, is handed by " the cutter" to the man at the desk, who 
remarks — 

" You are a stranger to us, and before we can let you 
have the work, you must give some security for the return 
of it." 

" How much is necessary?" she inquires. 

" Why, eight shillings will do." 

If the poor victim has the amount, forthwith she hands 
it over and departs with the goods, if not, she hurries back 
home, and takes her bonnet or dress and carries it to the 
pawnbroker's, where she gets the required sum, and again 
returns for the work which she receives, and goes home with 
a light and buoyant heart. 

This is the case precisely with at least three hundred 
and fifty girls on the day the advertisement appears, toge- 
ther with the day after, save in a few dozen instances where 
the poor girl cannot raise the dollar, having pawned her 
last frock, may be, a week previously. 

You ask how there are so many who want work, or are 
out of employment. Why, I will explain, while my girl is 
finishing her job, as we are not done Avith her yet, by a long 
ways ; her history is only one quarter told. 

She had bound herself for six months to a first-class mil- 
liner in the city, but after the six months expired, was turned 
ofi" to give place to other apprentices. 

" How was that ?" you ask. Well, she had to work the 
six months to learn the trade, and find herself The em- 
ployer now has to give her wages, if she remains, but sooner 
than pay her for what he can get done for nothing, turns 
her ofi", and takes another apprentice for six months, on the 



SEWING GIRLS. 109 

same terms, " to learn the trade.''' This has been lier his- 
tory up to this time. This is done millions of times, yet no- 
body tells of it, or sees its effect. 

She now sees the advertisement, applies, as I have told 
you, and has probably let the pawnbroker have the last arti- 
cle she had upon the earth, which would bring one dollar, to 
get this job. She, you must know, has had to support her- 
self for the last six months at least, if not longer, out of the 
wages she got, where she nursed for some " pious family up 
town." 

We now see her returning with her bundle ; I will follow 
and hear what passes between her and the " inspector," who, 
by the way, is a sour, crabbed, ill-grained foreigner, or blue- 
skinned Yankee, (just as bad.) that has no more feeling of 
kindness towards his fellow-creatures than a savage. 

He takes the bundle, unrolls it, turns up his nose, as if he 
had smelt a dead rat, and remarks, in the Grossest manner 
possible, " You have ruined the job,'' makes the whole letup 
together, and contemptuously throws it under the counter. 

The girl entreats, with tears standing in her eyes, as 
large as mountains (to her), by saying that she has worked 
for " Mrs. or Mr. So-and-so, and they never found any fault 
with my work." 

" You never worked for us before. Miss, and it does not 
suit. We would rather you had not touched the cloth — you 
have ruined the job, and there's an end of it — please stand 
aside, as there are others waiting for their jtayP 

She then asks for her money back, but only receives a 
threat in return, with a low, muttering grumble, that you 
have damaged us already eight or ten dollars, and we will 
retain your dollar, as it is all we shall ever get for our goods, 
which you have spoilt. 

This thing is enacted over and over and over, throughout 



110 SEWING GIRLS. 

the two ^'pay days J'' the firm having, may be, some twenty 
or thirty persons whom they pay on those days — but let me 
follow the goods and my poor girl. 

The goods are thrown, as I said before, under the counter, 
and probably fall through a trap-door into the pressing- 
room, where they are ironed out, assorted, and packed up for 
the southern trade, in nine cases out of ten, before the girl 
gets to the street. You see the merchant not only gets his 
work done for nothing, but three hundred and fifty dollars in 
cash to ship it ofi" with, into the bargain. This is no fanciful 
chimera of the brain, no painted imagination, but a stubborn 
fact, which can be proved any day. By the way, I under- 
stand that an indictment has been issued against a large firm 
in Broadway, but twenty-five or fifty dollars at farthest w411 
stop it — that is the last you will hear of the case. 

It is no hard matter to depict the situation of our poor 
girl, when we add, that her board has not been paid for two 
weeks ; and when, too, she has been told that it must be paid 
by Saturday night, or she must find a resting-place somewhere 
else, and it is now Friday afternoon. No friends, no one to 
ask advice from except a lawyer, and if she was to go into an 
office without first having the fee, unless extremely good- 
looking^ a police officer would learn her the way out^ if not 
to the station house. What is a lone girl to do in this case ? 
She reasons somewhat in this manner : — I have lived honestly, 
worked hard for my first employers, done all I could to satisfy 
their demands, and I am now left without a place to lay my 
head, a cent in my pocket, or a friend to ask for assistance. 
I see I cannot live by honest means, and will, {tnnst live,) by 
dishonest ones, rather than go to the poor-house. She delibe- 
rately walks out and sells herself for gold. This is not sur- 
prising at all. 

This completes three eras in her life, the fourth is easily 



SEWING GIRLS. Ill 

imagined and told. Thus reduced to poverty, and finding 
that she cannot make a living by the needle, she naturally 
gives way to the evil passions, and sinks degree after degree 
to the brothel and the grave. 

This is the history of thousands upon thousands in New- 
York, and yet there is no effort made to put a stop to it. 
Many, many cases happen in this way. If the employer 
does pay her for the work, it is not enough to support her 
decently, and she falls, because the labor of a working girl 
will not more than give her bread. " Why is this thing so ?" 
you ask again. Simply because it is a ivomati, and 7nan can 
impose upon her ; and another grand reason is. that there are 
so many milliner girls who get behind in their affairs, (as the 
Yankee expresses it,) from the loss of six months' labor in 
trying to pave the way to future independence. They are 
thus, you see, turned off without any thing to subsist upon, 
and rather than plunge at once into vice headlong, as it were, 
take anything the manufacturer chooses to give, and you may 
know that that is not too high. By a gradual scale of ex- 
penses over-balancing the receipts, the poor girl is at last 
compelled, almost, to adopt the plan our first girl did to make 
a living, and to avoid the poor-house, ends her existence accord- 
ingly. This is the end of all those who can be led into vice 
from stern necessity, yet there are some who will struggle on, 
and the brutal cravings of hunger and the cutting winds of 
a December night cannot seduce them from the rigid law of 
honesty and virtue. Yes, they ooze out a life of misery and 
wretchedness, amid wealth and extravagance. 

No girl can make a living at the wages paid by shirt 
venders and manufacturers of ready-made clothing, hats, 
caps, shoes, bonnets, (fcc, &c., it is out of the question. Nor 
will it be any better till the strong arm of the law is re- 
sorted to. There is another species of fraud practised upon 



112 SEWING GIRLS. 

the poor girls, known as the " shop-tenders." These are 
generally fascinating girls, who are told to talk and act in 
such a manner as to entice young men to frequent the shop, 
to make their purchases of cigars and tobacco, or their 
brandy and water as the case may be. The employer tells 
them, that if they fail to get up a custom or trade, they Avill 
lose their places. Don't you frequently see " a bar-tender " 
advertised for, who is " tidy " and " can influence trade," — it 
is not imfreqiient. The poor girl is literally compelled to use, 
not only her physical labor, but her personal charms and wits, 
and ingenuity for her employers, thereby blunting the finer 
feelings of her nature. And if there is the least particle of 
vice in their compositions, their history is soon recorded, 
being thus exposed to temptation, and the wily arts of sinful, 
deceiving man. 

There is no part of the human race or class of our people 
so much imposed on and maltreated as the young females in 
large cities. There are a thousand and one ways by which 
they are imposed upon without hardly any chance at being 
detected. They have no parents, nor any male friends to 
take their part ; they are ignorant of their rights, and are 
first reduced to dependence, then led on step by step, as I 
have attempted to explain, to an untimely and disgraceful 
end. I could go into the calculation to show you that their 
wages are too little to get them bread and meat, let alone 
clothes, but it is unnecessary at present ; thereby causing 
many a warm-hearted and vigorous young female to sink, 
dishonored and disgraced, to a premature grave. 

Oh ye men of New-York ! You have a list of charges to 
answer to, which I fear you shall not stand acquitted of, at 
the throne of God. 

This is not the fate of all the girls in the city who have 
to labor with their needles for a livelihood, as many chance 



SEWING GIRLS. 113 

to fall into honest haftds, and are kept employed at tolerable 
fair wages, and by economy an.d industry make out to pass 
through life unscathed, if their lamp of health holds out to 
burn — which by the way is very seldom. It is true a few 
find husbands, which, in three cases out of five, is only jump- 
ing out of the frying-pan into the fire. 

To pursue this subject into all the various ramifications, 
is not only interesting, heart-rending, and sickening, but 
truly astonishing and horrifying ! yea, astounding ! That so 
many of this class of community are thus hurried into vice, 
misery, wretchedness, disgrace, disease, death, the grave, and 
the presence of their Maker unprepared, by a set of heartless 
villains unwdiipt by justice, is strange indeed. Yet no one 
will take it upon themselves to investigate a single case, when 
thousands are daily occurring under the very noses of the 
hest citizens. 

The benevolent institutions, to be sure, do a little to re- 
lieve in many instances, but they go wrong-end-foremost to 
work. Instead of giving a small pittance, which only soothes 
temporarily and holds out the hope that another such relief 
will come, to go and kill the root — take the relief in their 
own hands, then the work will be done efi*ectually. One of 
the Nabobs of the Avenues replies, when interrogated upon 
this subject, that he gives " his weekly dues to the church, 
and there is a committee who sees that it is properly dis- 
tributed." This gentleman probably gives liberally, but it 
is giving encouragement, indirectly, to vice and laziness. If 
he took half of the amount to get a good place for some poor 
girl at living wages, or made it living by adding his mite, 
he would be then rendering essential service to his fellow- 
creature. 

Let each man or woman, who desires to render aid to 
those in actual distress, (and there are few persons who are 



114 SEWING GIRLS. 

not willing to assist the really needy,* instead of employing 
an agent, do it themselves, and a diiferent state of things 
would exist in six months. 

We have had our talk and smoke out, suppose we take a 
stroll through Chatham-street — I think it will prove inter- 
estinsi:, as it is one of the features of the island of Manhattan. 



CHAPTER XY. 



CHATHAM -STREET. 



Chatham-street commences at Centre-street, and extends 
to the j miction of East Broadway and Bowery-streets, which 
is about a quarter of a mile ; and I would venture to assert 
that there is more to be seen within that quarter of a mile, 
than in twice the distance on any other street of 'the city of 
New- York. This is saying a good deal, but I think when 
you come to witness it, you will say I am about right. This 
part of the city is sometimes called Jerusalem, from the fact 
that the Jews do most, if not all the business on this street. 

Here is a string of mock auction establishments, and is it 
not strange that hundreds, yes, thousands of persons will suf- 
fer themselves to be decoyed into these barefaced swindling 
shops, when they have heard so much of their operations, 
and too, when the Mayor has men carrying a great placard 
up and down the streets in front of these places, with " Stran- 
gers beware of mock auctions " on it, from morning till night. 
It is curious, but nevertheless so, and it is no matter for 
them. For myself, I am always glad to hear that " a green 
one has been taken in and done for." The other day, a gen- 
tleman from the South, somewhere, I think from Mississippi, 
stumbled into one, and commenced bidding upon a handsome 
gold lever, when it, as a matter of course, was knocked down 
to him at $17. He being pretty sharp, or may be had been 



116 CHATHAM-STREET. 

" taken in and done for " before, understood the game, and 
kept his eye upon the auctioneer, who had the watch. The 
trick is to change the watch as the purchaser is getting out 
his wallet to settle. At length he handed over the money 
and seized the watch, to the astonishment of the Funks, who 
attempted to get up a sort of row, but they found that their 
customer was as well prepared for this part of the game as 
he had been for the other. They had, in other words, waked 
up the wrong man, for Mississippi quietly put his $1T (worth 
$75 or $80) lever in his fob, and walked out of the establish- 
ment, well satisfied with the transaction, saying modestly, 
" call again when I come to town." 

On the right-hand it seems that every house is a ready- 
made clothing establishment, and I do not see any other 
kind till we get to the National Theatre, when the furniture 
houses commence, which continue to Oliver-street. 

On the left are silver-smith and jewellery stores — shirt, 
boot, shoe, and hat, do. — and all other kinds of commodities, 
from pea-nuts to double-barrel shot guns. The variety nor 
amount does not so nmch astonish you, as the little space it 
is all crowded into ; a room six by twelve is plenty large 
to expose a general assortment. Here you can see at a 
glance every thing in the old furniture line, from a Brussels 
carpet to cracked penny whistle — yea, even one of the veri- 
table powder-horns used by the hunters of Kentucky at 
the Battle of New Orleans. We not only see more wares 
and merchandise huddled here together, but w^e see more 
people on the sidewalks hurrying to and fro. Here you see 
Jew and Gentile, Priest and Levite, as well as all other 
classes — the old and young of the nations upon earth, and all 
the conditions and hues of the genus homo. How all can 
possibly make a living honestly is beyond my conception. 
You rarely ever see them selling any thing ; at least I never 



CHATHAM-STREET. 117 

have, and I have passed here repeatedly ; however, I am 
always in a hurry when I go through this street ; I am 
afraid of being run over, or having my pockets picked. 
Chatham-street is a sort of museum or old curiosity shop, 
and I think Barnum would do well to buy the whole concern, 
men, women, and goods and all out, and have it in his world 
of curiosities on the corner of Ann and Broadway. I think 
it would pay finely. A few of all sorts of people, and a little, 
of all sorts of things can be found in this street. Go through 
Chatham-street, and if you don't find some representative of 
the article you are in search of, you need not look in New- 
York for it. 

The great mass of the persons doing business in this 
street are Jews, or Dutch Jews, which is nearly the same 
thing. There is, as in every other portion of God's creation, 
a Yankee stuck in now and then by way of variety. You 
may put it down as a fixed fact that he is making his jack, 
or he would not be found here long. 

Suppose we take a stand there on the corner of Pearl, 
and see how they mix in and through one another, for awhile. 
Here the world meets (I mean the Chatham-street part of 
it) like it does in heaven, without respect of persons or names. 
In heaven, no matter who or what you have been, so that 
you have a clean robe, made white in the blood of the Lamb, 
you are received with the same feeling and attention which 
is due to all. In Chatham-street, the money alone passes 
you ; if you have that you are received, if not, you must 
hunt another one of heaven's many mansions. In all other 
parts of the city you will find little knots of acquaintances, 
who will assist each other (of course expecting the like favor 
in due time reciprocated) in many little matters ; but here it 
is not so, every tub stands on its own bottom, every dog must 
shake his own paw. Money is the standard which is ap- 



118 CHATHAM-STREET. 

plied to all men and all things indiscriminately. One man 
is no better than another. John Smith, the ex-member of 
Sing Sing, or BlackAvell's island, is as good as ex-member 
Jones of Congress, provided the money is the same. All 
are strangers to each other, and it is not understood in any 
other light when a bargain is made. Here's one and there's 
the other, is the law which governs all, except when a case 
of downright stealing is perpetrated. See that old chap with 
the oranges, how long do you imagine he has followed that 
calling ? I would not be at all astonished if he had occupied 
that corner for twenty years ; rain or shine, sleet or snow, 
wet or dry, there he stands ready to sell an orange for two 
cents. 

Look at that fellow — he is an Italian, I would judge, with 
his store upon his back. What a lot of suspenders, fiddle- 
strings, razor-strops, buttons, thread, dumb watches, pinch- 
beck jewelry, and pocketbooks he has hanging about him 
or in his tray upon top of his head, all of which he will " shell 
sheap,^^ no doubt. 

Then that book-store man on the corner, what an as- 
sortment he has. Let us go over and examine his stock, we 
may find one worth twice the amount he asks for it. The 
store is made by putting two planks upright against the wall 
and making shelves for the books, with a falling door, and a 
lock. This is the store-house, and by it sets or stands the 
proprietor from morning till night, when the weather will 
permit. The books are all old, and most of them out of print, 
yet among them you may find some valuable works. Fol- 
lowing the example of his more fashionable and wealthy bro- 
ther chips of Broadway, he keeps indelible ink, the morning 
papers, a few envelopes, corn-plasters and toothache drops. 
This is a sort of travelling ice-creamery and confectionary. 
The proprietress moves about to avoid the rays of old Sol, and 



CHATHAM-STREET. 119 

to be conspicuous to the passers. She is patronized by the 
sailors and cartmen, porters and placard carriers. 

See, there is a shell-store, and a very large and beautiful 
one it is too. There is now in that lot, I do expeot, a sam- 
ple of all the shell animals in the known world. There are 
certainly many which I never saw before, and I would advise 
shell-searchers to go into Chatham-street " before purcjj^asing 
elsewhere," as the advertisements say ; however, I do not re- 
member noticing a regular shell establishment any where 
else in the city. If one was in Broadway it would do well. 

Here is the sign of the three golden balls — it is a pawn- 
broker's sign. Why, you ask, is it that pawnbrokers took 
that sort of a sign, for it relates in no way to the business ? 
In ancient times among the Hebrews, I think, it was a sign 
of a prosperous individual — a thriving man or house. This, 
I presume is the reason it is taken up by this class of busi- 
ness men in large cities. AYhat if we could read the history 
of every article in that establishment, what a tale would be 
unfolded. Shall we go in and look round ? however I guess 
not. It contains thousands and thousands of all sorts of ar- 
ticles of clothing, jewelry, pistols, guns, and in fact every 
thing that will bring one red cent in the market. It is really 
astonishing to see what is accumulated in one of these estab- 
lishments. I attended a pawnbroker's sale the other day, 
and was surprised. 

That is the National Theatre ; it is patronized by the 
"two shilling" fraternity, the b'hoys, and the g'hals, and 
Jewesses and Jews of Chatham-street. Just above is the 
Franklin Museum, as it is called, but nothing more than a 
place where a set of men and women play, and sing a few 
negro songs in a sickly manner, and a few disgusting women 
pretend to expose themselves as model artists. It is cer- 
tainly the last place in New-York. There is no place where 



120 CHATHAM-STREET. 

a man is so completely swindled out of his money ; and it is 
like the man who was bit by the mouse, he is ashamed to let 
his friends know that he has been there. I have never met 
a man who had been there twice, and I hope never will. 
The concern has been taken to the " Station house " a time 
or two, but now the law winks. It hurts no one, as the per- 
sons ej;igaged are men who are notoriously abandoned, as 
well as the women. No one who ever has been there seems 
to care to go again, and there the matter ends — the evil 
cures itself. Up stairs, opposite, is an ice-cream saloon, but 
we will not go into it now, as we will visit them all one of 
these days, when you can see and judge for yourself 

What a bedlam this short street is ; all the East Broad- 
way, Bowery, and Pearl-street stages pass through Chatham- 
street ; so you see there is always a rush and a crowd in 
sight. A carriage has no chance at all. So it is with a foot- 
man — you can hardly pass at any time of the day or night. 

This is a travelling " derogatory-type " concern ; the first 
I have ever seen. He takes likenesses in his wagon, and 
when customers will not come to him, he goes to them. He 
is a genuine Yankee, I will guarantee. It is a good idea, 
and that class of men ought all adopt the improvement. 
Speaking of guns — what an immense business is done in the 
Daguerreotype line. There is hardly a block in New-York 
that has not one or more of these concerns upon it, and some 
of them a dozen or more, and all seem to be doing a good and 
fair amount of business. 

Halloo, there is a knife and scissors grinder. I have a 
knife that needs sharpening, and while he is doing it we will 
look round. 

Over there is an " old and new feather store." What a 
string of feathers is hung out of the door : some of them look 
as if they have been hanging there since the days of old Peter 
Stuyvesant. 



CHATHAM-STREET. 121 

That is East Broadway, leading out to the Dry Dock, 
where the shipping is all built, and this the Bowery, which 
I shall, on a future occasion, take you through — it will pay. 
In the angle between, you see the post office, and Aaron 
Swartz is the deputy. Every thing is Jewish. Ah, you 
have done my knife — how much do I owe you ? " Tree shent 
a blade." Well, sir, here is your money. 

A man might stand here from morning till midnight 
every day in the year, and he would see as much to interest 
him the last day in the evening, as he did the first day in 
the morning. There seems to be always a new picture up, 
and it on the dissolving plan. What is that, you ask? Why, 
have you never heard of Whipple's dissolving views? It 
will pay to look at. You see one picture, and before you 
can say Jack Robinson, or even wink your eyes, another is 
presented, and you cannot see how it is done, yet looking 
with all your might. The picture is let remain sufficiently 
long to be seen, when another appears in its stead, in a 
twinkling, without the slightest move of canvas, or any thing 
visible. I don't pretend to understand, but I suppose it is 
done by reflection in some way. Just so the scenes in this 
street, they are for ever moving; even the clerks of the 
stores are continually walking backward and forward before 
their own doors, as if they were trying how many times they 
could make the trip in a day. The crowd is too much alike 
and too large to ever get acquainted with " all at a time." To 
form any just conception of Chatham-street, and the amount 
of trade and traffic, and people, it is necessary to make a 
visit to the spot itself It never can be put upon paper ; 
even a picture of it to-day would not answer for to-morrow. 
" Don't you say so, Colonel ?" 

" I do, most emphatically." 

To-morrow I will conduct you through West Broadway, 



122 CHATHAM-STREET. 

and back through Church-street, and hear what you can say 
then about free negroes. 

" Very well, I am with you to any point of the compass, 
while I remain, you know." 

Then I will call at about half-past eight, a. m. Good 
evening. " Grood evening." 



CHAPTER XYI. 



WEST BROADWAY 



West Broadway extends from Chambers-street to Canal- 
street, a distance of about nine hundred yards, and is capa- 
ble of being made one of the handsomest streets in the city ; 
as it is noAV, I would imagine that there is less business, of 
any sort, done in it than any other street of its length and 
breadth (being very wide) in New- York. I shall therefore 
only direct your attention to but one house in particular, as 
it is the only one worthy of notice, except as a man would 
look upon trees as he passes along the roads. 

The cars of the Hudson River Railroad stop at the 
junction of this and Hudson-street. They are in now. What 
a number of passengers travel upon this road ! The river 
is a orreat drawback to the Railroad. The boats are all in 
opposition to the road as well as each other, and I imagine 
that the stock will never be a great favorite among the Bulls 
and Bears of Wall-street. Let me see what the stock rates 
at now. Let me think ; oh ! oh ! seventy-six was the last 
quotation, and it is not very apt to get up any higher for 
some time to come. 

See these eld rickety shanties, they look as if they would 
tumble down with the first strong wind. Both sides nearly 
alike, only that side next Church-street has all the grocery 



124 WEST BROADWAY. 

Stores ; I suppose this, as well as Broadway proper, has " a 
shilling side" and a " dollar side." 

We are now opposite the " Museum Hotel," the only 
building on this street worth attention, and it is one of the 
strangest things that I have met with, how such an estab- 
lishment is kept up and supported in the manner it is, in 
such a neighborhood. It is on the European plan, but more 
particularly a drinking-house. Suppose we go in, look at the 
curiosities, some of which would prove an accession to Bar- 
num's Museum. Quite a goodly number too. Look how hand- 
somely every thing is decorated ; a really fine concern. 
Nobody lives in this neighborhood who can afford to pay the 
prices charged, and I never see any one here. How is it ? 
It must be that its patrons assemble at night. I'll come 
here one of these nights, as, if any thing is worth knowing I 
am sure to be after it. They keep fine cigars, having re- 
peatedly got them here when passing. I used to board up 
Yarick-street, and this was on my way to the Post-ofl&ce and 
place of business. 

There is a lot of birds ; see that " Mino bird," I think he 
is called ; he can say several w^ords which any body can un- 
derstand, after heing told what they are, viz. : " brandy and 
water," "all right." Hear him — "brandy and water" — 
pretty well done, eh ? 

Light your cigar and come out, it is getting warm. There 
are several pawnbrokers' houses on this street, and several 
" exchange offices," where old gold and silver and uncurrent 
notes are bought and sold. I would say that it was a poor 
business in this quarter of the city, unless the stealing and 
robbing part of the settlers round about here (and I should 
guess that they were pretty thick) support them. I suspect 
they do. 

How very filthy every house and yard and fence and the 



WEST BROADWAY. 125 

streets look. What gangs of lazy idling negroes are stand- 
ing on the corners or trolloping about from cellar to cellar. 
The majority of the inhabitants are black or colored. I don't 
see how they live honestly, as I never pass through this 
street that I don't see a hundred standing or moving about, 
as if they had nothing under the sun to do, and I don't ex- 
pect they have, if the truth was known. I shrewdly suspect 
that three-fifths are fugitives or the children of fugitives. 
I'll tell you a good joke. The other day I saw a strapping 
fellow standing on the corner of Franklin-street, with his 
back to me. I walked quietly up, and taking him roughly 
by the collar, saying " OA, Vve got you at last, you run- 
away scou?idreV^ If I had fired a pistol near his ear, he 
would not have been more frightened ; breaking away from 
me, he left a dusty streak after him towards the river. I 
never saw a fellow run so ; probably he had not shook the 
dust off him in a year. I never saw him before, and I am 
sure I shall never again ; if I did, I should not recognize 
him ; but would almost swear he was a runaway ; he acted 
so much like one ; I have no doubt but he would gladly re- 
turn to his master. 

You always find a few hacks standing near this place 
(the Museum Hotel), that is evidence enough to prove some 
one visits this neighborhood. The hackmen know the holes 
where the fish lay. 

We are now in Canal-street ; this is the widest street in 
New- York ; may be some of the avenues are as wide, but I 
doubt it. There is a great deal of retailing done on this 
street. Some handsome and fashionable stores — some of 
the best milliners live here ; rent is not so high, and they 
can afford to sell lower than the Broadway people. All the 
economical buy here or in Hudson-street. No one but the 
" tens" trade in Broadway, and the strangers. 



126 WEST BROADWAY. 

We have now got to Church-street, and will turn down 
it. Church-street lies parallel with and between Broadway 
and West Broadway streets. It is the " i^egro street," 
where Dutch and negroes stand on the same platform. I 
do not believe that there is one respectable house on this 
street till you get to Chambers ; there may be one between 
Reade and Chambers, but I doubt it. It is longer than 
West Broadway, extending to Fulton-street ; but the part 
which I will lake you through, extends to Chambers only. 

Did you ever see such a mixture of negroes and whites 
all on an equality ? Here are cobblers, drinking-holes, " ex- 
change" offices, cigar stores, &c. &c., on the side nearest 
Broadway. 

On that side the drinking houses, dancing houses, and 
houses of bad character, and the Dutch groceries are all lo- 
cated. Here is a negro hotel called the " St. Charles Ex- 
change," suppose we go in. Passing through a long dark 
passage we enter a drinking saloon. 

Here seated around a large table, sit a party of negroes, 
plaj^ing cards and drinking rum after the most approved 
style. The barkeeper is the proprietor, who sports a two- 
storied shirt collar, a ponderous and showy watch-chain and 
seal, wears " hip pants," smokes continually, keeps three or 
four fine dogs, a double-barrel shot-gun, and a wagon and 
team. The others are gentlemen " ob town," who spend 
their leisure hours and dollars at the St. Charles Exchange. 
Some of these gents are moneyed men, who also keep dogs, 
and wagons, &c., and board at this hotel, probably with their 
" wife," upon the European manner of living. 

In steps a tall slender Dutchman who owns a grocery 
store on the corner, keeps a kennel of dogs for sale, and 
looks as if he would steal the pennies from a dead nigger's 
eyes. 



WEST RROADWAY. 127 

" Good morning, Mr. Pollywagski," says one of the gen- 
tlemen at the table ; " take a hand ?" he continued. 

" Me hardtly got de time, but don't care just for a leetle 
time ;" then looking round for a seat, moves it to the table 
and sits down. He now pulls out his pretty well filled wal- 
let, and enters into the game. 

" Did you sell that fine pointer dog of yours to the gen- 
tleman that was looking at him yesterday, Mr. Pollywag- 
ski ?" inquired a bright mulatto, who no doubt intended the 
remark for our ears. 

" No, no, he no get him," said Dutchy, shaking his head ; 
but keeping his eye upon the dealer. 

" That is a magnificent dog ; did you ever see him, Wil- 
liams ?" again interrupted the first speaker. 

" No siree, I never did ; but I'll bet a brandy cocktail 
that I have one that can beat him to death after any game 
you start him after," said Williams. 

" Did you see the ' Deer ' as she went out (meaning the 
Reindeer steamboat) this morning ? Niggers, you better 
believe me, she had some passengers." 

" No," replied several. 

We will now leave them and proceed on our way ; you 
have had enough of this hole for one time. Nice set that, 
eh? 

Look in that concern if you want to see the effects of a 
night's debauchery. A woman half dressed, and lying upon 
the floor in a state of beastly intoxication, not able to move 
hand or foot. That fellow sitting on the " stoop " (the little 
portico is called a stoop, why I am not able to say) looks as 
if he has suffered from his night's frolic ; no doubt he has, 
badly too. I think he is a stranger ; we'll see, at any rate. 

" Halloo, my friend, what seems to be the matter ? Are 
you sick, or is it the old drunk ?" 



128 WEST BROADWAY. 

Hear his story. 

" Gentlemen, I am from county, Ohio, and came to 

this city day before yesterday with a lot of flour and bacon 

hams, which I sold to Mr. , No. — ■ street, and he 

paid me half the purchase money, the other half he is to pay 
in thirty days ; here's his note. 

" Yesterday, after dinner, as I was walking up Broadway, 
I met a fellow, and asked him if he could show me the way 
to the Mansion Hotel. ' Oh yes,' said he, ' I am well ac- 
quainted with this village of ours ; come along. Ah,' says 
he, ' here is my sister, she is just going home, and passes 
right by your hotel. I believe I will go down town myself ;' 
and away he went full tilt. We (his sister and I) came here 
to this house, where she said she lived, and that there was 
agoing to be a party at night, and invited me to stay to it — 
that it should not cost me a red cent, but that the others who 
came would have to pay a dollar. So I concluded to stop, 
and I did. 

" After tea was over, the brother came in and cut a few 
shines about the rooms, hugging this sister and kissing that 
sister ; got mighty loving all at once. He asked if I was 
going to stay to the ball. ' Oh yes,' said the sister.' • Well,' 
said he, ' let's have a bottle of wine.' Directly a bottle was 
brought and drank, I joining in. After awhile I thought it 
would look sorter sneaky not to go my part like a man, so 
I asked if they had any more of that wine. ' Oh yes ;' and 
in a little less than no time another cork hit the ceiling, and 
we began to feel tolerable rich and clever. 

" The ladies now began to assemble for the ball, and after 
the music was ordered to commence, we fell to dancing. I 
was kinder scared at first ; but I found the fellows were so 
free with their partners, that I just let myself out, and took 
a wide row. I began to feel nay wine ; and after drinking 



WEST BROADWAY. 129 

some ^first-rate old luhisky^^ all at once I got sleepy, and 
was carried up stairs, thrown into a room, and this is all I 
remember. 

" I find that I am minus one hundred and forty dollars 
in cash, a first-rate silver lever watch of a neighbor's of 
mine, which I brought along to get a mainspring put in, and 
a first-rate umbrella, and my ring, which a girl gave me the 
Sunday before I left home." 

My dear sir, we, too, are strangers here, but can show 
you a police officer, should you want one, if you think he can 
do you any good. 

" I am, gentlemen, without a cent, and don't feel so well 
at best, and don't know how to get home, or the way to my 
hotel," sighed the poor fellow. We can show you to the hotel, 
and can give you such information as you need, and can give 
you a few dollars to help in paying your way home. Follow 
us, and we will take you to the Mansion House — it is just 
round the corner in Chambers-street. 

Here, you see, is a poor fellow who has been " taken in 
and done for," by a set of sharks that prey upon the verdants 
who come to town to transact their " Dad's " business. They 
can spot a countryman forty rods. These fellows can almost 
tell the county, let alone the State, you hail from. They study 
it ; and it would surprise you with what accuracy they can 
" spot a stranger y 

This poor fellow was seen gawking and staring about the 
Park, was accosted by the shark, and decoyed ofi" in the 
manner he said, (fee. 

This Church-street is a hard place, and I advise all 
strangers, and everybody else, to avoid it as they would a 
bed of snakes. The negroes who infest this part of the city 
will steal and burn, do any thing, if they can escape convic- 
tion, and get a cent by the operation. They steal fine dogs, 

6* 



130 WEST BROADWAY. 

and keep them in the back yards here for sale. If you want 
a fine dog, and are a judge, come to Church-street and you 
can get one. You have to judge for yourself, as they are, 
ninety-nine times out of a hundred, stolen property. The 
laws of this State do not recognize property in a dog. 

Here is the Mansion House, sir, good-day ; and take my 
advice, never venture in Church-street again without a police 
officer. 

Poor fellow, how bad he must feel, to meet his father and 
mother. It is ten chances to one, the note he has is not 
worth the paper it is written upon. Experience is a dear 
school ; fools will learn in no other, and hardly in that, says 
Dr. Franklin. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



THE MARKETS. 



What do you say to a stroll through the markets — there 
are several / " Well, I am with you." 

The Washington market is a fair sample of all the rest, 
and a walk through it will satisfy you for a while with the 
melee of markets. There is the Fulton, Catharine, Centre, 
Clinton and Essex markets, with several others of less impor- 
tance ; but the trouble of getting to them all is more than 
you w^ould like to encounter at once, so we will go down to 
the Washington, as it is the nearest, and what cannot be 
found in it cannot be found in any. It is not quite so large 
as some of the others, but the assortment is about the same. 

The market proper occupies the whole block, which is 
covered in, or rather over, like a house, with pillars holding 
up the roof. Here are all sorts of people, from the mayor's wife 
to the last imported Celtic woman, in fact the whole family 
belonging to the city, come, at stated periods, to one or other 
of the markets ; so you see, with the population of such 
a city as New- York, the crowd is dense all the time — never 
saw the time when the market was empty, or even looked as if 
a few more could be accommodated. 

When we contemplate the number of souls who are fed 
and clothed (after a fashion, some of them) upon this island, 



132 THE MARKETS. 

we are almost struck dumb with astonishment ; how they all 
get provided for, how they get an honest living, or how they 
get a living at all ! There must be, according to the late 
census, at least 605,000 souls within the limits of the.city. 
Think of that ; yes, and many thousands living in the neigh- 
boring cities, who are fed from the New-York markets prin- 
cipally, — it's wonderful. 

About as good a plan as any is to take a stand near the 
centre, if we can get there, and then look around at what is 
transpiring. At night this is a great place, more especially 
on Saturday nights. I never was here on Sunday, yet I 
would not be surprised if you could get supplied with almost 
any thing the market affords on that day even. 

Now we will stop and look at the moving mass before us. 
Had we not better read it, as we do a newspaper often, 
" straight through ;" it is as good a plan as any, and as re- 
lates to markets, about the best. 

There sits the butter woman, and by her stands a lad 
waiting his turn. Next is the flower woman ; her stock is 
rather slim — she must have had a good run this morning. 
See that fellow making love to her. There is the vegetable 
man, see how he handles the knife ; and the ^gg woman hard 
by ; then the sausage man, and the fishmonger. Look at those 
lobsters, what an ugly mess they make now ; but when they 
are nicely handled, and set before you, it is not a bad pill to 
take. Then the frogs — James' River, what a lot ! did you 
ever see the like ? they are generally small, but I suppose 
the sweeter. Do you eat them ? They are delicious. 

That is the oyster man, who stands there from morning 
till night with the expectation of selling a passer-by a six- 
pence worth off of the plate. Near him stands the knife- 
sharpener, who has a machine for whetting scissors and 
knives ; and there, too, is the everlasting soap man, with his 



THE MARKETS. 133 

fellow cMp the " cement man ;" what a trio. Look at that 
old lady with " the specks ;" she can see the inside of a bad 
shilling as quick as the next one. The green currant man ; 
what a pity to spoil them before they get ripe ; and the 
strawberries, what a lot ; cherries, too, as I live ; that looks 
like the pie-plant, or rhubarb. What a fine lot of Southern 
potatoes ; they seldom stay in market long. There are 
chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, what a stock ! ! They do not 
go well this morning. That fellow selling tripe and beefs 
heels, he had better be hoeing potatoes and corn. That's a 
lot of eels, a poor dish ; they are not good in this country — 
too small ; and the clams — don't see why our " muscles " are 
not as good. 

Then to the left is the meat department ; that is finer- 
looking beef than we get in our country. There, too, is 
venison and wild turkeys ; wonder where they hail from ; up 
in the mountains, I suspect. Since this Erie Railroad has 
been opened, many such things are coming in. The thing is 
new ; it will soon drain the country through which it passes, 
and we will see no more such rarities till another part of the 
country is developed. 

Here is dried fruit and green apples, pumpkins and 
pumpkin-pies, tomatoes, beans, turnips, yea, all the produc- 
tions of the garden, all, every thing that will bring a penny. 

See that fellow with his basket, how he pulls and hauls 
about, wonder if he ever intends to buy ; what a dainty fel- 
low he must be. He is, I'll warrant, an old bachelor or a 
gambler. There is a pretty girl with the blue bonnet ; she 
buys things as if she was mad, or in a hurry, or both. She 
must be one of several sisters, who have to come to market 
alternately. See how she throws the onions about. There 
goes a nice old lady in black ; she takes things slowly. See 
how she examines the butter she is buying for her dear 



134 THE MARKETS. 

children — nothing can be too good for them. Dear old soul, 
how tender-hearted these mothers are— a man cannot think 
too much or too well treat his mother. There goes the hotel 
keeper ; see how he takes the stalls by storm, with his three 
or four runners, who are taking his purchases to the wagon. 
" Any thing will do 'em this morning, Joe." Oh, the dog ; 
he does not know a boarder is eyeing him. " Any thing will 
do 'em '' — when he says in his advertisement that the very 
best the market affords shall be on his table. Oh, the vil- 
lain — buying the stock out to get it cheap. Well, well, 
these landlords ! There is an old hogshead of a woman, she 
keeps a private boarding-house — oh 1 shut your eyes or you 
never can eat at another. " Give me some of your cheap- 
est." Give me some of the cheapest — ah, you old hag. I 
wish you could hear her at the table to-day. " Never saw 
things so dear in market — had to give so much more than I 
did last fall — things ought to be cheaper now." That's the 
way private boarders are treated. I'll never stop at one 
again — " the cheapest." There goes a fellow who buys to my 
taste, that looks like a restaurant man. He takes what is 
good, or don't take any — never asks the price. That man 
with his son following him buys as if parting with his last 
dime — a penny's worth here, and two pennies there. Oh, 
the misers ! Some people are too mean to live, too stingy to 
draw a full breath of air. There is a fat old codger ; he, I 
think, is the proprietor of a second-hand boarding-house, 
verging into a hotel. How he minces about, some good, some 
bad, but a little of all. He is trying to get his reputation 
up. There that gawky boy, he goes it, all his money for the 
two first articles that pop into his head. Oh, there goes an 
old maid and her waiting-girl, Bridget — all servant girls are 
named Bridget — how she eyes the vegetables, turns the eggs 
over, holds one up to the light, smells of the butter, tastes of 



THE MARKETS. 135 

the fruit, there she buys, some green apples ; how attentively 
and minutely she examines the sausages, takes a wad ; then 
she looks at the onions, turns up her nose slightly ; " there, 
that will do, Bridget," she simpers, and turns out. Halloo ! 
here comes a customer ; see how he lays in strong diet ; he 
must be buying for day laborers — he is. There goes a chap, 
a mulatto boy ; he takes hold as if doubtful whether it 
will please or not ; no doubt is laying in supplies for a steam- 
boat or a sea captain, or a retired gambler. I say the latter, 
as he does not take enough for either of the others. See 
that Dutchman ; he darted in, bought a piece of beef, a loaf 
of bread, and put out ; he is in a hurry, working against 
time — making boots. Here comes an old negress, she is 
after a piece that is " left," a " bit " which has been refused ; 
she had better be on a plantation. 

There is another department we have not seen yet ; yes, 
two, the roots and shrubbery. See what a lot. You can get 
all sorts of roots and flower cuttings, though there is no 
" compelment " that they will grow, or if they do, that they 
turn out to be what they are sold or represented to be. 
Then the stand where cheap suspenders and half-hose is 
offered. I have repeatedly seen these things hawked about, 
but never saw an article sold. 

A market is the place to see human nature, especially 
when the fear of being seen is not before their eyes, as in 
the case of the first person who attracted our attention — a 
fellow making love (kissing) to a girl, when dozens are within 
a yard of him, and it fti open daylight ; you see he thinks 
that it is all the same, a man can be as much alone in a 
crowd, as in a wilderness, and I reckon he is about right. 

You see the " star man ;" as you are aware, he belongs 
to the police department ; is a sort of regulator, keeps things 
straight, quells the squabbles, &c., <fec. Every body has an 



136 THE MARKETS. 

idea that an officer is looking at them, and very little pilfer- 
ing is done — none at all scarcely. 

We have remained here till ' nearly time to visit the ice- 
cream saloons. I want to show them, and as this is a good 
day for the butterflies to he out, we might as well take a turn 
in that direction. 

The regular markets could not supply every person in 
town by a long shot, consequently there are many other 
places where you can be pretty well supplied ; there are 
several up town, above Niblo's ; then there are hundreds 
of wagons that traverse the city in every direction. 

But enough of markets for this trip ; we will now go in 
this bowling saloon, smoke a cigar, and talk, then we will visit 
the Restaurants and Ice-Cream Saloons, and end our ram- 
bles for this day with a supper at either one of those mag- 
nificent and luxurious enicurean saloons, Taylor's or Thomp- 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 

To investigate the manners, customs, and habits of the peo- 
of New-York, would be a very difficult task. They have 
changed the style and cut of their coats, since the good old 
days of the Knickerbockers. Yet it would be worthy of 
the time and labor spent, as the curious freaks of society 
might be seen to be as changeable as the hues of a dying Dol- 
phin. New- York city may be considered a congress of 
nations — the native Chinaman, the Choctaw, the whisky- 
drinking Celt, the bully Dutchman, the Jew, the frisky 
Frenchman, and "niggers," like the children of Israel — all, 
all are here ; consequently, to properly depict the manners, 
habits, and customs of this heterogeneous mass, would be dif- 
ficult indeed. I shall speak of the natives only, and their 
peculiar characteristics. 

Hundreds, yea, thousands are born, raised, and die in 
this city without ever going out of it, or looking into the great 
book of Nature, which is continually open before their eyes. 
They never think or ask what this is, or why it is so ? or 
even attempt to comprehend or understand the motives and 
objects of those around them, who are wearing their lives 
away at their daily pursuits. They live in the midst of the 
hive, as it were, perform a certain routine day after day, yet 



138 MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 

in reality know nothing of their neighbors' business, although 
they come in contact with them daily. They never take a 
paper, or go to a theatre or place of amusement — seldom to 
church ; — they go to market, to the grocery on the corner, 
and to the polls (when carried), and this is the sum and sub- 
stance of their lives. 

To give you an illustration. Some time ago, I boarded 
with an old gentleman in White-street, who was at least fifty- 
five years of age, and told him I had stopped previously to 
my coming to his house at the " Irving House." " Irving 
House," said he ; " where is that ?" Now, White-street is 
about four blocks from the Irving House. He had never 
been there, or seen the house in his life. He had heard of 
the Astor. but never had seen it, thought he would " some 
dayT This relates to the old Knickerbocker stock ; and 
there are not a few of that extraction in New-York. 

The real genuine live Yankee is a different sort of animal 
altogether ; he knows what is going on, and what every body 
is " about J'' sure. He sprang originally from Connecticut, 
and is up to snufi", when a dollar is to be made. 

But I shall speak of New-York men — those who are born 
in New- York, and whose parents or ancestry originally came 
from the universal Yankee State. Not the women at all, as 
they are of a different sort of material, or generally so. 
Nature, in the very creation of w^oman, has provided against 
angular or harsh peculiarities. The medium of their social 
communications and relationships always takes more or less 
the stamp of their natural gentleness and amenity. 

The great object, though, among the men is the fenny ; 
upon it turns every action of their lives, as well as motive of 
their natures. To illustrate. When I first came to this 
town, I had a letter to a gentleman in the city, who was to 
give me what information I might desire or need. I wanted 



MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 139 

a good many articles, such as relate to a small family. My 
friend took me down to a house in Cedar-street, introduced 
me as an acquaintance, and left me. My new friend asked 
me if he could do any thing for me. I made known my busi- 
ness, and what I wanted, &c., <fcc. ; where I stopped, how 
long I expected to remain, and so on, and so forth. 

He called that afternoon, and invited me and wife to his 
house ; took us to ride, to the theatre — was really burthen- 
some with his attentions. In the mean time, I had made a 
pretty smart bill with him. What he did not have that I 
wanted, he went out and got at wholesale prices. After the 
lapse of ten days, I told him we had got all the things we 
wished for the present ; and if he would put them up in a box, 
and send them to the Southerner, I would give him a check 
for the amount. The bill was placed in my hands and I 
gave a check for the amount. So soon as the young man 
started for the bank, this " overly" polite friend took a seat 
with his back to me, put his feet against the stove, and com- 
menced reading the morning paper. The young man re- 
turned with the nod of all right, and I made a " bee-line" for 
my hotel. I remained a month, as I told him, and he never 
troubled me again ; — met him once or twice — nodded the first, 
but not the second time to me. 

Another. Two old cronies meet. " Why, how are you, 
my dear old friend ?" " How do ye do ?" returns the other, 
shaking their hands as if they w^ould pull them off. " Let's 
go and take something," says Charley. " Agreed," says 
Tom ; and away they trudge to a restaurant — they drink, and 
each man pays his score. 

Parker, in his '• Journal," has made some home thrusts 
at the manners of New-York, which are so pointed and true, 
that I cannot refrain reading one of them to you — here it is : 

" The great rule among New- York men seems to be that 



140 MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 

'every tub shall stand on its own bottom,' and ' every dog shake 
his own paw,' to use the homely but exceedingly pertinent illus- 
trations of common life. The basis of their manner is an imita- 
tion of English reserve. To admire nothing, care for nothing, 
be startled by nothing, are the three great rules which shape 
and govern all the details of their life. The great eifort ap- 
pears to be to emancipate themselves from all the punctilios 
of old-fashioned politeness, and fall back into a kind of Spar- 
tan simplicity and independence — an independence of every 
thing and every body. No earthly bond of union appears to 
subsist between any two men. It is true, a similarity of 
tastes and pursuits may and does bring them more or less 
together, but it requires no force to separate them, and ab- 
sence brings with it no regret. We do not know here that 
feeling which, in most other countries and places, exercises 
so large an influence upon the feelings and associations of 
men — especially young men who have associated for a long 
time together in school, in college, and in society. That fine 
impressive sympathy, called esprit du corps, does not exist, 
or exists in so slight a degree, is so faint, weak, and inopera- 
tive, that you can never depend upon it to combine the ac- 
tion or the thoughts of men whose bodies have, perhaps, 
been thrown in daily contact for years, and whose minds have, 
for the same period of time, been exercised in the same pur- 
suits. You sit four years on the same bench with a man at 
college, and may, perhaps, have sat as many years before 
on the same bench with him at school. You graduate to- 
gether, and make flourishing speeches, with the greatest pro- 
priety, principally in the dead languages, about brotherhood, 
friendship, and all that kind of antiquated nonsense. 

" A year afterward, you meet him in the street, the opera, 
the ball-room — any where — and a bend of the head, after the 
fashion of a Chinese toy — a kind of half-frightened, half- 



MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 141 

doubtful jerking forward and curving of the muscles of the 
neck — is all the formality of your recognition of each other. 
In the street, by the way, the accredited style is to bend your 
neck as if you had a mind to touch your left or right shoulder 
with the point of your chin, but were suddenly seized half 
way with an incipient cramp in the shoulder selected for the 
honor, and compelled to recover your perpendicular as quickly 
as possible. If you are dear, very particularly dear and in- 
timate friends, live together three days out of four — know 
the same people, and assist each other, with hourly assiduity, 
in the pursuit of that pleasing ignis fatuus — pleasure, a 
light which it will be unnecessary for us to explain, usually 
plays its seductive antics alongside the 'primrose path of dal- 
liance,' called ' the road to ruin,' — if, in short, you Damon 
and Pythias it the year round from the club to the saloon — 
and other places too numerous to mention, and possibly quite 
as well left alone — ^you not only jerk your head spasmodically, 
but you say, ' How do, Tom ? — how are you, old fellow ?" — 
and perpetrate a sickly muscular spasm of the face, which is 
supposed, by the initiated, to be a smile. 

" This is, however, rather a bad manner, than bad man- 
ners. It is in the club-room and the drawing-room that the 
particular New-Yorkism of shirking all kinds of social respon- 
sibility produces the largest, and, with all deference, we 
should say, the most unhappy effect upon manners. If you 
enter the club with a friend, you being supposed, of course, 
to be a stranger there, the routine is always the same, and it 
strikes us as always bad. New-York men never introduce. 
Whether it is because they feel insecure of their own posi- 
tion, and doubtful of their own rights ; or whether they are 
too idle to settle for themselves the question of your presen- 
tability — the effect is the same. You enter the club ; a knot 
of gentlemen will be sitting together ; three or four of them 



142 MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 

perhaps you know ; three or four more you do not know ; 
your friend lounges into the circle, and expects you to follow 
him ; he gives no intimation to the company that you are 
under his safe conduct, or that he is in any way responsible 
for you. You talk to those you know — if you happen to 
know any — and the rest speak to you, or join in the conversa- 
tion ; or examine you superciliously, and fight shy of you — • 
just as the fancy takes them. No one feels any delicacy 
about you. No one seems to imagine it possible for you to 
be modest, or precise, or punctilious ; or troubled with niau- 
vaise honte — or likely to feel as if you were intruding — or, 
in short, any thing but an habitue of the place, and thoroughly 
up to all the bizarreire of its want of manners. You are a 
waif, an estray — to be picked up or let alone, as the club 
passenger pleases. If you were an escaped convict from 
Sing Sing or Auburn, no one could be more indisposed to 
take the responsibility of presenting you than your own par- 
ticular friend and companion, and his particular friends. 

" In the saloon and drawing-room it is very much the 
same thing. You are standing with a friend : you observe 
to him, ' I should like very much to be presented to Miss 
or Mrs. So-and-so.' That, perhaps, in some civilized coun- 
tries, would be considered a hint, a pretty broad hint — in 
fact an intimation from which escape would be almost im- 
possible. Your friend, who has known the lady intimately 
almost from the hour of her birth, glides out of it as easily 
and unconcernedly as possible. It never affects his equani- 
mity for a moment. Of course he never dreams of presenting 
you : he could not take the responsibility : he dare not do it 
for his life : it is contrary to the New-York rule of ' every 
dog's shaking his own paw.' He looks carelessly around the 
room and says, ' Ah ! you would, would you ? AY ell, there 
is Mrs. So-and-so, or Miss Such-an-one, she knows her, get 



MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 143 

her to put you through — ' putting through ' being the slang 
formula for doing any thing whatever successfully. But 
suppose you do not know Mrs. So-and-so nor Miss Such-an- 
one — will your friend introduce you ? Evidently you are a 
Hottentot to imagine such a thing. You tell him you are 
unacquainted, and he answers, ' Don't know them ! now 
really that's bad ;' and slides away from you. You are get- 
ting troublesome ; you are not shaking your own paw." 

A proper classification of Yankees would be thus : — a 
New-York Yankee, Connecticut, and a Down-Easter. 

The New-Yorker will skin you and then kick the body 
out of the house because the hide was not worth more, or 
that he can make no further use of it. 

A Connecticut Yankee fleeces you, from principle, and if 
he fails or neglects to do so, does not rest easy at night ; his 
conscience chides him ; he has departed from the true faith. 

The Down-Easter, who has, by the way, more soul, gives 
you at least half the worth of your money in amusing you 
while you're under the operation. Now and then you find a 
warm-heart in a Down-Easter, in the other two never. 

It is just so in all the various ramifications of business 
and trade. You can walk right up to an acquaintance, and 
make a bargain with him on any thing that relates to politics, 
with as much assurance as if you were bartering a pound ot 
maple sugar for a yard of calico. It is looked upon as all 
relating to the great prime mover of their lives, dollars and 
cents. 

As I told you long ago, that if you paid your way you 
could go where you pleased — it " was all right." It does 
not, as Parker justly remarks, require an introduction — shake 
your own paw, and be sure to stand on your own bottom 
while you are about it — it is all that is necessary. 

You will find persons whose interests and business asso- 



144 MANNERS. HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 

ciate them together — probably do business in the same room 
for years — who would not assist one another unless they cal- 
culated upon a like favor, no more than entire strangers. It 
is probably because they are too well acquainted. I know 
men who have done business ten years in the same store- 
room, not on different floors, but upon the same floor, upon 
the same writing desk, one upon one side and the other the 
other, who did not know where each other lived ; they knew 
what rent or board they paid to a cent, but where was 
altogether another matter. Their families were perfect 
strangers. 

You can so seclude yourself here, and have no more to 
do with the world than Peter the Hermit, yet be in the very 
midst of a half million of people, and as quiet as if you were 
ten miles in rear of the Basin Spring, in North Carolina. 
No person knows or cares any thing of his neighbor, so long as 
he does not interfere with his affairs or interest ; but so soon 
as one treads upon the toes of his business, he rises in his stir- 
rups, and then comes a competition and strife known only to 
quack medicine venders ; but all in a business way ; nothing 
personal. Why you would be called a fool if you were to 
resent, or think of holding your adversary responsible for an 
insulting advertisement. To call each other swindlers and 
impostors, cheats, and the like — yea, liars, seducers, ifcc, 
(fee, is quite common — an every day occurrence. Every 
thing turns upon the dollar, and so long as you do not out- 
strip your neighbor, you are passed by as a traveller does 
the mile-post, and as soon pass out of memory. 

If a man has any thing to sell, you are looked upon as 
common property ; somewhat in the light a hunter holds his 
game ; so long as he is in pursuit, his whole attention is 
drawn, and every faculty exerted to bag the bird, but no 
sooner bagged than the recollection ceases. 



MANNERS, HABITS, AND CUSTOMS. 145 

And when a man is known not to have the penny, he is 
shunned as if he had the leprosy— -more so in New-York 
than any place in the world. It is so, in a great measure, 
everywhere, but here they make no bones in letting a man 
know, that 710 7noney is the reason he is avoided. Some 
people will smother it up, but here they act openly. 

The Yankee character is an industrious, energetic, and 
persevering one, without much, if any, sublimity of purpose ; 
if I may so express myself, no lofty aspirations, no nobleness 
of spirit, none of that warm-heartedness, and generosity of 
sentiment and feeling which pervades the soul of the South- 
erner. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



RESTAURANTS, ETC. 



Having had sufficient rest, we will now take a ramble 
through the Restaurants, Bowling Alleys, Billiard Rooms, 
and Ice-Cream Saloons ; there is something to be seen if 
not learned in these places of resort. To visit them all would 
be almost an endless journey, as it does seem to me that 
there are more drinking places in this city than any other in 
the world, according to its size. Every direction, above as 
well as below ground, they are to be found, so we will go to 
a few of the leading ones. 

It seems that Messrs. Sherwood, Florence, and Fisher, 
have monopolized the trade in this line. For instance, this 
is Daniel J. Sherwood ; the next is Sherwood & Fisher ; the 
next G. T. Fisher ; then comes Florence's St. Charles, his 
City Hotel, and various others, which sail under his colors. 
It appears that these men build up one and sell it out with 
their " good will." Then they go into another place and get 
up a better one, and so on. 

We will now go down (most of them are under ground) 
into Daniel J. Sherwood's, and get cigars. How fine and 
neatly the whole room is decorated ; large mirrors, beautiful 
pictures — see that pretty lot of golden fish in this globe of 
wa*^er — are they not pretty? Hero iire set dishes of cold 



RESTAURANTS, ETC. 147 

beef and plates of bread and butter ; tliis is lunch, and re- 
mains on the counter for hours ; there, too, is snuff and to- 
bacco gratis — every thing " to hand." This is the prepara- 
tion-room for the Banks in Park Place ; many a poor fellow 
has been led in here for the purpose of getting him highly 
strung, in order to win his money, but not by Mr. Sherwood 
or his partners. Here you can get all that the market af- 
fords in the Avay of fish, flesh, or fowl, and done up in good 
style. 

This one is Sherwood & Fisher's, and is an improvement 
upon the first ; the mirrors are a little larger, the paintings 
finer, and, in fact, every thing is improved. Just take a 
look at these paintings, they are splendid ; I presume they 
are placed here for sale, or to sell others of the same kind. As 
to which of these places you happen to fall into, the fare and 
the bill is the same, not to be bettered in the city — at a Res- 
taurant. 

Here is one, but I have never been down into it, of 
Florence's getting up, one of the early efforts. We will not 
enter, but go into this new billiard saloon. This was for- 
merly kept by a Frenchman, and was rather '■^ low flung J'' 
but has been rebuilt and gotten up upon the grand " late 
improvement scale." Look at the tables, this is the last 
finished one in the city, and as a matter of course, the best, 
because all the improvements are added. This is a city 
of improvements, a creation of yesterday evening. All 
that is to be seen in this town is emphatically new ; it would 
not answer if it was old, it would be laughed at as behind 
the asre. 

Two hundred years ago the trees of the forests waved in 
their majesty where these buildings now rear their domes ; 
the Indians who wandered over these hills are in their 
graves, and a new people filling their places. I doubt 



148 RESTAURANTS, ETC. 



•whether at this moment there is an aticle of any kind, save 
it be some okl musty manuscript (not worth a cent), that is 
known to have been on this ishmd one hundred and fifty 
years, and certainly not a buikling which has stood for a 
hundred years. The people and the houses are all new ; the 
fondness for old houses, old habits, old friends, and old furni- 
niture, as old Hardcastle told his worthy spouse, is changed 
on this continent ; nobody wants a house built by his father, 
it would be old-fashioned, not up with the times. 

You cannot show any house of interest or renown that 
has existed even seventy-five years. Where and what is its 
history, I would like to know ? Places and houses that ex- 
isted then are gone, changed, modernized, enlarged and im- 
proved ; so are the people. You cannot find, I believe, a 
paper that was printed before the revolution, and as to there 
being a firm or commercial house in all Gotham which has 
been in business fifty years, there is no such thing, nor one 
wdiich has remained unchanged for thirty, hardly twenty 
years, Avhen we have heard of houses doing business in the 
old cities of Europe that have remained unchanged for two 
hundred years. The increase of population, of business, 
buildings and employments is so rapid, that the people of 
our day have not time to record them. 

Over the way is the " Gem," a celebrated adjunct to the 
Broadway Theatre, as is the " Arbour," one above, the other 
below. It is well supported. Here is a picture in the Ar- 
bour which I will show you ; there, don't you call that fine ? 
The form of a woman unsophisticated ; all these devices are 
resorted to to attract. This house is not so stylish as some 
of the Florence cut, but is above ground, which is an ad- 



vantage. 



Here is the St. Charles on the corner of Leonard-street, 
and another opposite ; they are on the first-water principle. 



RESTAURANTS, ETC. 149 

This one is a sort of adjunct to the St. Charles Hotel, which 
is kept upon the European plan, and in here is where the 
meals are cooked. I am not well acquainted with the house, 
but I hear a good report of it. 

We will now go down towards Canal-street ; this, by the 
w^ay, is the highest part of the city (below Union Place) ; it 
descends in all directions from this point. Let us go into 
Florence's (proper), near his hotel, known as the Florence 
House ; this is kept upon fast principles and for fast men. 
It is a good house ; I have greased a plate and tumbled a 
bed there, and can speak knowingly. Here's the place — 
whether it is Florence and Fisher, or Florence alone, or 
Fisher alone, I am not able to say. I cannot keep the run 
of the names, &c. ; if the concern is well kept it is all I care 
about ; a rose smells as sweet by any other name to me, in 
the Avay of good living, at least. 

Now we will go to the Panorama Saloon, though there is 
one just below ; it is kept in the name of G. T. Fisher, (I 
know,) also one by a new beginner opposite, but we will go 
to the Panorama on the corner of Lispenard and Broadway. 
Come down. It is generally considered worth a cigar to 
look at the pictures. Give us a cigar and turn the pic- 
tures for us if you please. " Yes, sir." He goes behind the 
screen and turns a frame which has four or five representa- 
tions ; one is Powers' Greek Slave, another the Goddess of 
Liberty, another the '' Morning Star." All pretty well got- 
ten up ; the others I don't know what or who they re- 
present. 

Here is another establishment on the corner of Canal, 
and a sort of secret establishment over head that I have 
never rightly understood. You always, day and night, see a 
set of hacks standing here ; they understand. 

We will now go into Florence's City Hotel. The bar and 



150 RESTAURANTS, ETC. 

sitting-rooms are the most elegantly furnished of any in the 
city ; the most costly. See what grand mirrors and paint- - 
in<is — superb. Now come up stairs and look at the billiard 
saloon. This is not so fine as some, though pretty fair. See 
that painting — a woman unsophisticated : it is the grandest 
thing I ever saw. What do you imagine it could be bought 
for ? have no idea, eh ? well, sir, seven hundred and fift}^ dol- 
lars is a standing bid ; one thousand dollars is asked. Some 
fool will come along who will give it. Never saw a more 
perfect thing in my life ; said to be one hundred and twenty 
years old ; bought in Italy about three years since, by Flor- 
ence. You can get as good cigars here as any in the city, 
as Florence is not to be outdone by any of his competitors ; 
not he, faith. 

There is one more farther up, (we go up now since we 
left Canal-street,) which I wish you to see, an adjunct to 
another theatre. Brougham's Lyceum. This one, like the 
last, is above ground, and is very fine ; not so costly as the 
last, but fine. You see a better collection of paintings and 
pictures, and a larger and better selection of newspapers. It 
is said that honest liquors are sold by this man. I do not un- 
derstand the term " honest liquors," as I am not in the drink- 
ing line, cannot explain. I guess it means good liquor, or 
such as represented. I am certain of one thing, I shall never 
test the qualities thereof There are thousands of these sa- 
loons about like this one, and twice as many more, when you 
get down to the " cellars," as the common ones are called.* 

We will now go back to the '' Irving Rooms," probably 
the largest billiard establishment in the city — three floors, 
and in the fourth a pistol gallery ; some twelve or thirteen 
in each room, and all engaged late and early ; when I say 

* Six tliousand and four places where ardent spirits are sold within the 
limits of the city. 



ETC. 151 

early, I mean about half-past 10, a. m. These rooms are 
resorted to because they are large and roomy ; hardly all 
the tables are occupied eternally ; generally one is at rest. 
I think there are more tables here in one house, probably 
than any city in the Union. 

Now we will cfo to the larg-est bowlino;-saloon in the 
world ; it Tnust he so, as the sig7i on the house sai/s so. At 
any rate, it is a very large establishment, yet I do not think 
it equal to many others in the city in point of quality ; for 
instance, the one under the Astor House ; and there are 
many full as fine as it. I had rather amuse myself at the 
Astor ; there you know pretty much the sort of people you 
mix with, at least you are more at home — I am. 

This whole building is appropriated to ten-pins ; what an 
idea ! a house which could not have cost less than seventy- 
five thousand dollars, may be more, devoted exclusively to 
ten-pins ! We are a great people, and this is a great coun- 
try when it gets to be fenced in, as the Western man would 
express it. Wonder if it pays, you say. You may just bet 
your life it does, or will soon, or be put under the head of 
" old, and wanting improvement." 

It appears to me a waste of the raw material ; but I sup- 
pose the proprietor knows. I think, as well as my memory 
serves me, that it has been in operation several years ; theti 
you may put it up as a paj/ing concern. 

We will now go to the old " Pewter Mug," a drinking 
establishment, vfhere the Democracy meet previous to its as- 
sembling in the old and consecrated " wigwam," Tammany 
Hall. Here, it is said, great plans are concocted — where 
Presidents are made and their cabinets formed in a night. 
This is not so fine as some, but it is decidedly respectable. 
All the Democratic leaders' portraits decorate the walls. 
The proprietor (I forget his name) has honored Henry Clay 



152 RESTAURANTS, ETC. 

with a place. Well, that is right — I suppose so. You know 
my opinions of Henry Clay ; they are bad enough, but I will 
save them for your ear when we get on board the boat home- 
ward bound. 

" Will you take dinner with me V^ asked my friend. 

" In course'^ I will. Why did you not think of that 
sooner ? 



CHAPTER XX. 



TAYLORS SALOON. 



New- York, with its great wealtli, has always possessed 
many of those establishments, the sole design of which is to 
minister to the tastes of the opulent, refined, and fashionable 
classes of society. With each succeeding year it has stea- 
dily increased in wealth, and consequently in the number 
and splendor of all those matters of elegance and luxury, 
which, gratifying and delighting only the senses, are found 
only amid abundance of wealth. While it is true that this 
state of things has generally been called into existence by 
the actual demaiids of the votaries of pleasure, on the other 
hand, it has happened, in a few matters, that they have 
been brought before the fashionable world some time pre- 
vious to their having been deemed wanting. This is espe- 
cially true of those far-famed refreshment saloons, Taylor^s 
and Thompson's, and most truly of Taylor's. Ten years 
ago an establishment like Taylor^'s would have been consi- 
dered an extravagant folly, and at first would have been 
visited chiefly to gratify curiosity in seeing it, and not the 
palate to partake of its delicacies. Mr. Taylor led off in this 
great reform, by introducing many new luxuries into .his ice- 
cream saloon (which w^as then the chief fashionable resort), 
and it was soon evident from the success attending this move- 
7* 



154 Taylor's saloon. 

ment, that the fashionable world was delighted with the in- 
auguration of this new regime of epicurean administration. 

Success induces competition, and soon another establish- 
ment, Thompson's, was opened, which, in appearance at least, 
was somewhat more attractive than Taylofs, and, for awhile, 
many preferred the new saloon. Both these saloons have 
several times been enlarged or rebuilt, and reopened still 
more attractive than before. 

I have told you that every thing in New- York is done by 
rages. In this matter, the rage has been at one time 
Taylor'' s, and then Tliomj)soii's, and vice versa. A year ago 
Tliojnpson^s was rebuilt in splendid style, and hence has 
been rather more attractive in its appearance than Taylor's ; 
but I do not think that it has drawn away the custom from 
Taylor's, which is always thronged. So far as I am con- 
cerned, I always go to Taylor's, and so do all my acquaint- 
ances. I mean no disparagement to Thompson's ; but 
Taylor's is the best place, in my opinion. 

Lately Mr. Taylor has erected an establishment which 
is, or will be, worthy of its name — Taylor's Epicurean 
Palace — which is now approaching completion, and which 
will surpass every thing in the world in the way of- refresh- 
ment saloons. The Cafe de Paris, of which our travelled 
countrymen tell such extravagant stories, will be totally 
eclipsed ; and we may expect the proprietors of that and 
other noted cafes in Paris to visit New- York to obtain specifi- 
cations for the purpose of remodelling and properly fitting 
up their own saloons, which have so long been regarded as 
the ne plus ultra of European luxury, elegance and magnifi- 
cence. In this respect Mr. Taylor has revolutionized the 
entire world of fashion, and happily for us we are now living 
to enjoy this new era of luxurious comforts. Think for a 
moment of an expense of $350,000 for a refreshment saloon ! 



I 



Taylor's saloon. 155 

Mr. Taylor's plan embraces all the luxuries and the role of a 
modern first-class hotel upon the European plan, where mag- 
nificent suits of rooms are- to be furnished to those who are 
willing to pay a liberal price, in order to secure an absolute 
exemption from the confusion and bustle of a common stop- 
ping-place for the herd, like the Irving House. No pains or 
treasure has been withheld which can contribute to render 
this temple of luxury, magnificence and hospitality, perfect 
in all its appointments. 

But let us go in and take a seat near the back part of the 
room, so that we can see all who come in and go out, without 
looking around or appearing as if ^\e were paying any atten- 
tion to what is going on. 

" Waiter, will you bring us the morning papers and the 
bill of fare, if you please ?" " Yes, sir." 

Now select what your utmost desire is, in the way of 
refreshments or substantials, it will be gratified in a twink- 
ling. I will take a plate of " raia, off the shelly What'll 
you have ? Give him some venison steak, I know you are 
fond of it. " In one moment, sir." 

See that tall chap coming in, he is one of the fancies who 
o.mhle up and down Broadway, at particular periods in the 
day. She, who is under his protection, is a cousin of his, 
from the country, supposed to be very rich. His name is Yan 
Antwerp — hers Edwards. They seat themselves, and call for 
a bottle of the coldest champagne. We will leave them. 

That elderly gentleman and lady are strangers, here on a 
visit ; been here often before, and take things deliberately. 
What a difi'erence it makes. Over to the left, near the wall, 
under the lamp, sit a bevy of ladies — these are " up towi 
folks," who happened to meet, while out shopping, and jusc 
stepped into Taylor's, to exchange a dish of scandal or gos- 
sip, as well as sweetmeats. 



156 

Beyond them is a pair of Avenuedle daisies, I guess — 
but we can tell when they call the waiter again. Ah, I told 
you so — ''^ ices for twoP 

Opposite sit a lady and gentleman in close conversation, 
a little sighing and playing with the corners of pocket hand- 
kerchiefs ; that is a pair of doves, billing and cooing a little. 

That fellow coming towards us, hat off, quizzing-glass 
stuck over his left eye, exquisitely curled moustache, whis- 
kers a-la-Scott, flashing cravat, in the broad-band tie, white 
vest and fancy blue-striped pants, elegant patent-leather 
boots, with his hat and stick in one hand, and the other stick- 
ing in the arm-hole of his vest, with the odd glove in it — 
is young Brown, whose father belongs to the firm of Brown 
Brothers & Co., of Wall-street, rich bankers. He will make 
some of their hard earnings go like chaff before the wind. 
There, he has condescended to sit down ; see how he eyes the 
door ; is waiting here to meet some one. "VYe will keep our 
eye on him. 

Who is that, I wonder ? never saw them before, that I 
remember — no, I know I never did. He is a foreigner, at 
any rate, and she is one of the snobs of Union or Lafayette 
Place, who, no doubt, imagines she is entertaining a foreign 
Count at least, if not a Prince. 

That fellow who is just taking his seat, is a disciple of 
Lycurgus, who meets a pretty dark-eyed girl here nearly 
every day. I have never found out whether it is a case that 
will be referred to a priest or a judge, one of these days. I 
think the former, though, will be called upon soon, either 
privately or an elopement. 

This old covey coming in now is a rich old broker, who 
j3iade his money in Pine-street, and meets a widow-looking 
lady here occasionally. I have seen them two or three times 
lately, and understand that case like a book. She is after 



Taylor's saloon. 157 

his money, if not one way, another will be resorted to — it is 
as plain as daylight. She is too pretty and young to love 
that old chap. See that lady with the ringlets, a dark bru- 
nette, heavy eyelashes ; — oh, heavens and earth ! did I ever 
expect to meet her again? I will a tale unfold about her 
one of these days. She is known as the Widow Frazer, and 
is from the sunny South. 

Those two who are now approaching, one is a Mrs. 

A — , lives in V street, and keeps a boarding-house ; the 

lady who is with her is a Mrs. Smith, whose husband is 
gone to California ; and you will see a friend of hers enter 
directly. I know them all — seen them before. Both are 
decidedly good-looking. The former lady's liege lord is in 
Illinois, making ready to take her out in the fall. This has 
been the story for the last three years ; though they all 
move in the best of society. There, I told you he would 
come ; see him looking for them ; he sees them — what a 
greeting. That lady with her little daughter is the wife of a 
Doctor — , whose shingle sticks out in Reade-street, who pro- 
fesses to cure all manner of complaints in a day. She rents 
a room, with breakfast and tea, and dines here in case she 
wants it or is not invited out. She circles freely among her 
friends. Ah ha ! I thought that little jewel would be along- 
soon ; that's her with the white feather dodging up and down. 
She is quite handsome. I don't understand these meetings. 
Brown is rich, and " of course respectable ;" she is not over- 
laden with jewels, but has an independence, and of a good 
family — so I don't see why they resort to these clandestine 
interviews. They go out — it is just so every time. I will 
follow them one of these days — mark my w^ord, I'll see it out. 
This old gentleman, who is walking up now, I have met every 
time I ever promenaded Broadway. I am well acquainted 
with that quizzing glass, heavy moustache, closely buttoned 



158 Taylor's saloon. 

frock coat, with woolly cuffs and collar, that gold-headed 
cane, and large Newfoundland dog, but I have never found 
out his name. Some say it is Major Richardson, the author, 
but deponent saith not ; however it must be him, like the 
dog that was good for coons, upon the principle that he 'tniist 
be, as he was good for nothing else. 

I think that Taylor, or whoever is managing the house, 
must be clearing at least several hundred dollars clear of all 
expenses daily. It is a very pretty business. Here you 
can get all the tropical fruits as soon as they appear in the 
markets where they are grown. I have seen watermelons in 
at Taylor's before they appeared in Charleston, S. C, or Au- 
gusta, Ga., two of the greatest melon markets in the world. 

New-York could no more do without Taylor's and Thomp- 
son's than without her tailors and milliners ; and the fash- 
ionable portion of japonicadom, were these saloons closed, 
would heave as many sighs, and make as many complaints 
over the event as if a famine had visited the nation. 

Some years since the most fashionable saloons of New- 
York were resorted to for ice-creams, ices, m.eads, lemonades, 
etc., which beverages alone were to be had at these estab- 
lishments. Such were Niblo's, Taylor's, Thompson's, the 
Alhambra, Vauxhall Gardens, the Atlantic, etc. In time 
other refreshments were introduced, more particularly 
game, oysters, meats, fruits, etc. But they have had their 
day, and there are now only a few establishments whose 
sole business is providing ice-creams, etc. ; the chief of these 
is in Chatham Square. The supply of delicacies is not ex- 
tensive or varied. We can get good creams and cakes, but 
not all that is to be had at Taylor's or Thompson's. This 
place is the head rendezvous for the Bowery boys and 
girls, who make that street the Broadway of their lives. 
You will remark the persons who frequent here are not 



Taylor's saloon. 159 

dressed, nor do they act like tliose in Broadway ; they are 
entirely a diiferent class of the genus homo — no more alike 
than the dry-goods' clerk is like a plo^Y-boy. Yet the same 
in other particulars ; they walk the street, spend their money 
and time in the same sort of pursuits, yet they are different, 
and widely so. When we get into the BoAvery, I Avill shoAV 
you the difference. 

We are at the place — pull the string. Now you can see 
the difference between the fashionable retreat and a common 
one. Walk in here — there, see how tame and cheap every 
thing looks ; why if Mr. Van Antwerp was to tell his dear 
old Ma that he even by accident stopped in here, she would 
have to send for her smelling-bottle or faint. We can go 
to other places where a good many of these little niceties 
can be got, but they are not termed or known as ice-cream 
saloons. 

An ice-cream saloon is not only a place where you can 
get what you want in the way of the delicacies of the season, 
but a trysting ground for all sorts of lovers. The Art-Union 
used to be the rage for stolen interviews, but became " too 
commonil^ every body (when I say every body, I mean the" 
japonicas of Broadway only) Avent there to meet their 
friends — so these saloons are in vogue at present. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



THE BOWERY. 



" What ar ye ^hout tJiar^ stoppin^ the engin^ in the 
bowery 'F conve^^s as good an idea of the cliaracter of the 
Bowery people as could be given in an octavo volume of de- 
scription. Yet this does not give you any thing like a good 
description ; the reality must be viewed to be fully appre- 
ciated. The genuine Mose, who " runs wid der merchine," 
is well portra3^ed in the Mysteries and Miseries of New- 
York, but there are other characters which are as striking 
as Mose, and you will have to see before you can understand 
what I attempt to explain while we pass. 

The Bowery (why it is called the Bowery I have never 
been able to learn ; all I can get is, thaj: it has been so called 
since the days of, Peter Yon Yolten, and in speaking of it 
they always put the the ; for instance, in giving you direc- 
tions, will say, you pass Mulberry-street, Mott-street, Eliza- 
beth-street, the Bowery, Chrystie-street, and so on. Why 
not call other streets, such as Spring-street, Bank-street, or 
King-street, the Spring, or the Bank ? <fec. It is not laid 
down in the city plans, or blocks, or laws, as the Bowery, but 
simply as Bowery-street, and you never hear any one so call 
it) and Broadway stand somewhat in the attitude of rivals, 
and the friends or frequenters of each are never known to 
speak only in derision of the other. 



THE BOWERY. 161 

You never see a Broadway dandy in the Bowery, and 
vice versa ; but before we get through this ramble you will 
plainly understand the difference between the two. The 
whole people who live on these streets partake of this feeling, 
as much as the butterflies who decorate, or the arms which 
defend them. 

Here w^e are at the Bowery No. 1, so look out for what 
passes. The houses are not so high, so costly, or so substan- 
tially built in this street as in Broadway, there being no fine 
stone fronts over here. The great majority are two and three- 
story houses, with open fronts, as you will observe the whole 
block, laider the awning, looks like one store. Broadway is 
unquestionably a fine street, and I have so far done it justice; 
but in point of spaciousness, view, and variety, it is not to be 
compared Avith the Bow^ery. Yet there are thousands of in- 
habitants of this good city who would not for any reasonable 
consideration confess having ever been here, or in fact know- 
ing precisely where it is. The rush and clatter of omni- 
buses, the chatterino; and barterins; crowds within the well- 
filled shops, the hurrying throng upon the sidewalks, are at 
any hour of the day or night as great as in Broadway ; and 
to a stranger visiting New- York for the first time, and being 
put down in the Bowery, would take it for granted that he 
was in the principal thoroughfare of the great metropolis. A 
very common mistake about New- York, made by those not 
acquainted personally with it, is that it consists pretty much 
entirely of Broadway, and that all the rest, except the whole- 
sale part, which is that portion below Fulton street, is mere 
suburb. The newspaper and magazine scribblers have been 
for time out of mind aggrandizing Broadway at the expense 
of all the balance of the city, while, in fact, save for getting 
up and down town, or for the purpose of purchasing fancy 
drygoods at extravagant prices, there are twenty other streets 



162 THE BOWERY. 

quite as worthy of observation as Broadway. For instance, 
Division, Canal, Hudson, Greenwich, Pearl, Carmine, Sixth 
Avenue, and various others. 

The Bowery presents probably a greater number and 
variety of shops than any other street in the world. Fancy 
bread, cheap jewelry, splendid looking-glasses, furniture, 
hardAvare, and china, straw bonnets, ready-made clothing, 
cooking-stoves, and " doll-babies," fiddles and cocktails, new 
music and Shrewsbury oysters are to be had here for the 
turning of your hand (provided there is any thing in it), and 
without stepping out of your way. Indeed, on a fine spring 
day, this noted thoroughfare, filled with its stalwart men, and 
buxom, bright-eyed lasses, tripping along with a step as free 
and elastic as a country milkmaid, looks like a vast holiday 
fair two miles long. 

Another important feature of the Bowery, is that every 
thing can be bought 15 or 20 per cent, cheaper than in 
Broadway, and equally fine in appearance, and as good in 
the quality. It is true that the pattern and style may be 
a little different — but who shall say which is right or which 
is wrong ? Is not the Bowery as fairly entitled to its fash- 
ions and customs as Broadway ; and are not the plump and 
joyous creatures who loalk through it as worthy of regard as 
the pale and sickly beings who pace languidly, in green and 
yellow melancholy, over the flagstones of Broadway ? " Say /" 

The Bowery has, too, its fashionable side ; although the 
absurd solitude to which custom (or rather the want of it) 
dooms one side of Broadway, does not make a desert of the 
east side of the Bowery, yet the belles and b'hoys of this re- 
gion take pretty good care to see that they are on the right 
side of the street as well as each other. And I would ven- 
ture the assertion that the searcher for the beautiful would 
find more to please the eye, gratify the taste, and amuse the 



THE BOWERY. 163 

mind, in a half hour's stroll in the Bowery on a bright after- 
noon, than can be met in Broadway in a lunar month. More 
to engage the attention, awaken a feeling of liveliness, and 
raise the spirits, is to be found in the Bowery than any other 
part of this great condenser of mortality. 

You will observe, that the rail-road passes through this 
street, commencing at Astor House, which does away with 
some of the crowd that would otherwise be seen upon the street. 
There is a proposition to get one in Broadwa}^ but I think it 
will fail, as it is not sufficiently wide to admit the track, and 
the great number of carriages which must necessarily be 
continually upon it shopping. 

It won't do to shock the sensitive nerves of the dainty 
and delicate exotics who periodically pass along that time- 
honored promenade. No, no, it must not be granted, or all 
Snobdom will be upon the ears of the worthy Mayor. It is 
out of the question. 

You will observe that the sides of the street appear to be 
all door, and the walls only separate the different concerns. 
Every apartment is crowded to the utmost — no dwellings 
mixed in, now and then, as in Broadway — no offices of medi- 
cal men — all, all, are businesses appertaining to traffic. Nor 
do you see so many second floor establishments, nor so many 
cellars handsomely fitted up, yet you see fully (if not more) 
as many persons and omnibuses, draj^s, carriages, &c., &c., 
and too, you must remember, there are not a hundred hotels 
on this street, that it is half the time full of travellers, like 
Broadway. 

The principal one in the Bowery is the Westchester 
House, upon the European plan, and a very fair house at 
that. The Bowery Hotel is rather a loose affair — where 
money takes you, or in other words, no questions asked. 
There's one or two more, but rather loio flung^ which we 



164 THE BOWERY. 

shall give the cold shoulder to at present. The Theatre on 
this street, is the oldest one in the city, and keeps up regu- 
larly the legitimate drama, and is pretty well patronized. 
The audience in the pit is sometimes rather uproarious, but 
it takes an actor of merit to " star it " upon the Bowery boards. 
I could give you some instances in relation to this, but I set 
out to show you the Bowery, and I will save them for a m.ore 
convenient season. 

Here comes the " fashionable " promenader of this street ; 
that's him, in the very last agony of the '• ton " — black silk 
hat, smoothly brushed, sitting precisely upon top of the head, 
hair w^ell oiled, and lying closely to the skin, long in front, 
short behind, cravat a-la-sailor. Avith the shirt collar turned 
over it, vest of fancy silk, large floAvers, black frock coat, no 
jewelry, except in a foAv instances, Avhere the insignia of the 
engine company to Avhich the Avearer belongs, as a breastpin, 
black pants, one or tAA^o years behind the fashion, heavy boots, 
and a cigar about half smoked, in the left corner of the 
mouth, as nearly perpendicular as it is possible to be got. He 
has a peculiar SAving, not exactly a SAvagger, to his Avalk, but 
a swing, Avhich nobody but a BoA\'ery boy can imitate, and 
is ahvays upon the qui vive — never caught napping. 

You remember the Broadway dandy is rigged, as Avell as 
I can recollect, somcAvhat after this manner : — Fine patent- 
leather boots, rather short, very large striped pants, tight, 
except round the boot, a flashy vest, very short, watch-chain 
and seal, Avith a large bunch of " charms," and a heavy finger- 
ring suspended on the guard chain, fancy cravat, of the 
" broad-tie " style, standing shirt collar, coat of some fancy 
pattern, on the sack order, just covering the hips, slecA^es 
large and loose over the hand, all the beard that can be 
raised left, to prove that he is not a Avoman, quizzing-glass 
OA^er the left eye, hair befrizzled to the utmost, a short Avalk- 



THE BOWERY. 165 

ing-stick under the arm, all topped off with one of Leary's 
white hats, placed on the left side of the head, and you have 
the real Simon siwassee Broadway fop. He ambles or ra- 
ther reels when he walks, as if his feet were blistered, and is 
never seen to speak with any one upon the street. 

The Bowery man speaks to every acquaintance he meets, 
and is hail-fellow-well-met with every body, from the mayor 
to the beggar. 

Another grand difference in these two specimens of hu- 
manity. The Bowery boy is a fair politician, a good judge of 
horse flesh, tragedy, comic acting, music as well as dancing, 
and renders himself essentially useful as well as ornamental, 
at all the fires in his ward, and if necessary, in his neigh- 
bor's ; does a kind, generous act when in his power, pays his 
board, and splits the Third Avenue wide open occasionally 
with " Old Pumpkins." The Broadway representative is not 
only a fop but a ninny, knows about as much of what is going 
on, out of the very limited circle of his lady friends, as a 
child ten years old. He ambles up and down Broadway 
twice or thrice in twenty-four hours, smokes a cigar after 
dinner, and drives, if he can raise the means for so doing, 
waits upon a lady friend, if he should be lucky enough to 
have one, when she will let him, and this is the extent of all 
his actions and ambition — he's an encumbrance to the earth. 

The female fops of each, partake of the ingredients of the 
above representatives in all particulars except in case of ren- 
dering assistance at fires in the first instance, but the latter 
makes it up, by assisting in keeping the side-walks cle|Ln, 
with the skirts of her dress. You see this street has all the 
requisites to make it a great business mart ; here are several 
banks, insurance offices, &c., &c., and if the Bowery had a 
judicial tribunal of her own, it would be a separate kingdom, 
and as a matter of course, an independent one. Whenever a 



166 THE BOWERY. 

person who lives upon tliis street sees an acquaintance get 
ting "large for his size," he is most sure to say, " Yoti arc 
aping Broadioay now ;" and vice versa, the Broadway man 
says, by way of derision, " That's the Bowery touch," no mat- 
ter whether it be a bank officer or a street loafer, the same 
sentiment exists in all. 

Here we are at Vauxhall Garden ; a sort of ice-creamery, 
and general rendezvous for the Bowery fashionables, who 
assemble, mostly at night — not having time during the day 
like the Broadway dandies, who are troubled with more time 
than money. This is pretty well kept, and the appearance 
at night, when properly lighted up, is by no means dull. 
See how^ the seats and stalls are arranged. This is the 
" Taylor's" (of Broadway) of the Bowery, and at night is as 
densely thronged as either Taylor's or Thompson's in the 
day. You will observe that there are two rows of stalls cov- 
ered over, so that the inmates can be protected if the weather 
should prove inclement. {Query — What business has a 
young lady out when the weather is not fair 1) I presume 
that there are as many stolen interviews at Vauxhall Gar- 
den as at any of the Broadway saloons. 

From this point upwards, is Fourth Avenue, which leads 
up to Union Place, then runs parallel with the famous Third. 
From Union Place to 27th street many of the nabobs reside, 
and several of the blocks are really elegantly built up. Not 
far up this Avenue is the Clarendon House, which rumor says 
ranks well up among good houses, but deponent saith not. Up 
in that neighborhood are many first class boarding-houses — a 
class I have never become acquainted with — and honestly 
doubt if there be such a thing in the whole city. However, I 
am told there is one in Waverly Place, the landlady of which 
is going to apply for a patent-right. She certainly desei^^es 
one. 



thp: bowery. 167 

We are now at the Bowery Hay Market, where all the 
hay which comes to town on wagons is sold. There are 
always fifty or a hundred wagons standing in the street, like 
cotton wagons in Augusta, or any other cotton market. This 
is a great resort for livery stable men, and jockeys in the 
horse swapping line. A man has to keep his eyes open here 
or he is gone, sure. 

This is the junction of the Third and Fourth Avenues, 
consequently the Bowery ceases at this point. 

Take this street, up one side and down the other, and 
you will find more true, genuine independence, generous hos- 
pitality, wit, humor, nobleness of disposition, and liberality 
than any other portion of the city of New-York. These peo- 
ple feel a sort of " State pride," and where that exists you al- 
ways find a free, open-hearted, noble, and independent spirit. 

There is a large amount of business done on this street, 
but all in a retail way. I don't believe thei:e is a wholesale 
house, unless it may be in the ready made clothing trade, in 
the Bowery. 

Now let us go back to the Westchester House, where we 
can get a lunch and cigars. This you must observe is the 
best hotel on this street, and is nearly equal to any on Broad- 
way. It is kept on the European plan ; so the eating is to 
order, of course; but the rooms, I am told, are all cramped 
— too small. This is the second time I have ever been in it, 
though I have passed frequently, and heard from various 
persons the character as a hotel, &c. 

To-morrow I shall take you through the Avenues, and 
give you an insight to the life and peculiarities of snobism 
while on our way. 

Here I must leave you, having to go up into Houston- 
street for an hour, to see a sick medical student. Do you 
take that stage and it will bring you out at the Astor. So, 
good morning. " Adieu." 



CHAPTER XXII. 



AVENUEDLES. 



The Avenues are the streets which have been laid out un- 
der the new dispensation of the city government. The plans 
of the city seem to have been various previous to the laying 
out of the Avenues. Wherever an avenue commences there 
the plan of streets is laid out at right. angles. These streets 
are called Avenues from the fact that they are wide and 
straight openings to the city, resembling the Avenues which 
are often laid out from a country residence. They commence 
from Houston-street on the east of the city, from Washing- 
ton Square on the west, and run outwards in a northwestern 
direction. They are named as follows : Avenue D at East 
River, then C, B, A ; then Avenue 1, 2, 3, and so on to Av- 
enue 11 on the North River. Fourth Avenue is about the 
centre of the city. Across these Avenues the streets are 
named numerically, viz. : 1st, 2d, 3d, and so on up to 155th 
street, which is about Manhattanville, or the -High Bridge. 

The persons who live upon these Avenues are, if they 
have or make any pretensions to style or fashion, soubri- 
queted " Avenuedles." Some years ago it was all the rage 
to settle upon the Avenues, to get out of the dust and confu- 
sion of the city ; and splendid mansions were erected, and 
only fine ones — no ordinary ones — therefore when a person 



THE AVENUEDLES. 169 

gave the number of his, as being on Avenue 8th or 6th, for 
instance, it was known (without telling) that the informer 
lived in a fine house ; and another idea tacitly conveyed or 
understood was, that none but upper tens lived in these fine 
houses ; so you see this double-entendre gave some impor- 
tance to the occupant ; and thus the rage for getting out 
upon one of these streets. 

These rages would take such directions as the Wall- 
street speculators chose to give them. The first rage was 
to get on the Eighth Avenue — it was gotten up on legitimate 
circumstances — that of the pretty locality, sites, (fee. The 
next was the Fourth Avenue, because some leading men hap- 
pened to locate over on that street, property was enhanced 
ten pen cent in ten days ; the street was settled up, when 
another great man made a purchase on the Fifth Avenue, and 
forthwith the rage was the Fifth ; and this happening when 
nobody but the first class merchants and brokers could raise 
the wind to get out ; therefore the Fifth Avenue was settled 
up by the rich nabobs, consequently it has kept up pretty 
well ever since. The rage then went over on the other side 
again, because some distingue happened to get a lot in 
the way of securing a security debt, and it was the rage till 
that part was pretty well settled up. An " old real estate 
broker " gave me a glance at his " log book " of the " runs," 
and the men's names that were used to create the furore. 
I forget them. The rage is now Stuyvesant Square, imme- 
diately in the neighborhood of Hamilton Fish. His fine 
house and his money is enough. If a man wants to purchase 
a lot, the broker will tell him that INIr. Fish has just settled 
there, after looking all over the city. It is all the go — is 
the nabob street. Well, it's the fashion, and down goes the 
hammer. The buyer never saw, and probably never will see, 
Mr. F., but he can say that he lives at No. — Stuyvesant 



170 THE AVENUEDLES. 

Square, 7iear Mr. Senator Fish of the United States Sen- 
ate ! The next rage will be " the country " inside of fifty 
miles, and it is verging that way now. Another season and 
the contagion will take. 

The Fifth, as I told you, is, I think, considered the finest, 
owing to the great number of palaces upon it ; but this even 
is becoming common. There are a few snobs (of which I 
will tell you directly) edging themselves in here, and the 
real " double struck in the warp " codfish are leaving, and 
after a while this street will be only occupied by third or 
fourth rate people ; in all probability boarding-houses for 
families. All these fine houses are built upon the late im- 
provement system, with all the modern improvements, dumb- 
waiters, gas, baths, steam-heaters, sliding-doors, and et cete- 
ras, &c. Dumb-waiters may be a new idea to you, I will ex- 
plain ; they are upon the principle of the '•' elevators " to a 
wheat mill. They take the buckwheat cakes up fi'om the 
kitchen to the dining-room ; the Avaiter lets down the plates 
and the cook puts on the cakes, w^hen up they go to the sev- 
enth floor if necessary. A good invention, or rather an im- 
provement. They are fixed in the wall. 

There is where the widow lives, who, when the proces- 
sion which followed her husband to Greenwood Cemetery, 
left the door, whispered to the driver, " Let the hearse jjass 
through Broadway^ and donH hurry the mournersP 

These people live at lightning speed. One of the fash- 
ionably ^;ie families is now in the habit of inviting their 
guests at two, a. m., to dinner. That's late enough at any 
rate. Most young married couples commence life upon a 
steamboat or a rail-road. All the delights and pleasures of 
genuine old-fashioned social life are sacrificed to the perpet- 
ual strain and insane rivalry of display. Social life in New- 
York is a vast bubble, inflated by vanity and pride, and cov- 



THE AVENUEDLES. 171 

ered with rainbow hues reflected from the plate-glass win- 
dows of the dry-goods and millinery shops along Broadway, 
and leading everybody onward in a mad chase after its bril- 
liant nothingness. Morality shrinks from the mere contact 
with this giddy throng ; and even religion forgets her hu- 
mility, and makes a Vanity Fair of the six hundred churches. 
These people no longer live for themselves, and the calm and 
sweet enjoyments of the family circle, but to show their neigh- 
bors how very elegantly they can live. There is but one 
genuine, sincere, and earnest wish throughout this city : its 
divinity is the goddess Caliconia — its scribe, Fashion, — 
king, Mammon — its high priest, Stewart. 

These magnificent buildings cost from $10,000 to 
$200,000 ; and there is not one in a thousand unencum- 
bered, for the most part actually mortgaged to secure the 
building and purchase money. 

When this is not the case, two-thirds at least is borrowed 
upon the house and lot to go into or do business with. Catch 
a Yankee letting forty or fifty thousand dollars lie idle ; by 
no means. The money is borrowed at six per cent., and if 
he can make eight, or even three, he does it rather than lose 
all the interest. It reminds me of the real estate broker's 
advertisement of " $200,000 to loan at six jjer centT How 
is that, you ask '\ You see a flaming advertisement in the 
papers, " $200,000 to loan at six per cent., in sums to suit 

applicants. Apply at No. — , street." When you find 

the place, you see the rich, yea, modern Rothschilds, sitting 
in a cold basement room, near a little, old burnt-out stove, 
rubbing his hands as if limbering them to count money 
briskly. A man calls in and says, " Good morning." " Good 
morning," replies the broker. " Y^ou have money to loan, 
sir." " Yes, a little ; how much do you want ?" " Not very 
much, sir." " What sort of property?" " A ' brown stone' 



172 THE AVENUEDLES. 

front, No. — , — Avenue." [All sales of real estate are 
made through brokers.] " Ah !" says Shylock, " that class of 
property is going down, and am fearful I shall not be able to 
loan much upon your house. I had rather loan money on 
property upon the other side of the city. How much did you 
say you wanted ?" " Only $10,000 ; I guess I can get on 
with that amount." " Describe the property, so that I can 
send my inspector to examine it, and I will give you an an- 
swer at two, p. M., or quarter jjast. What do you ask for 
your house ?" " It was valued at $25,000 by the city As- 
sessor this spring, and I would not take less." " Oh, these 
Assessors don't buy Or loan money on property ; so put it 
down, any way." 

The applicant gives the description and leaves. At two 
again calls, whereupon the following ensues. " What do 
you say about the loan I was mentioning this morning ?" says 
the applicant. " I could not think of $10,000 ; what do you 
say to $6,500 ?" " No, sir, I must have the full $10,000 or 
near it." " Then how much ?" " Why I will make out with 
$9,000." " Well, sir, to be candid, I cannot go quite so 
much ; but if you will call in the morning, I know a gentle- 
man who is likely to do it — most sure he will — he is not so 
particular as we old stagers." 

Out goes the deluded subject again ; but as he takes 
hold of the door-nob hears, " Call at ten in the morning, and 
I will give you an answer." 

At ten he returns, and is told that the man " has not 
been seen — out of town — sorry for it." " Sorry too," ejacu- 
lates the subject. A pause of three minutes. " But / will 
give you $5,000 myself" '• Can't take it," says our man. 
" It's all I can give," says Shylock. The next day he calls, 
and agrees to take $6,000 at seven per cent., for a term from 
one to six years. 



THE AVENUEDLES. 173 

He is now conducted to a lawyer's office, to fill out the 
papers, and have a search made among the records, &.C., &c. 
To his chao;rin as Avell as astonishment, he has mortsrao-ed 
his establishment to a large banking-house, or the Parson 
with whom he is well acquainted — not desiring at the start 
to have the transaction known beyond the records of the 
court. At the end of the first year, he is unable to pay the 
interest, and the mortgage is foreclosed. Thus you see the 
man who had so much money, did not in reality have a red 
cent — was only the hireling of the rich banker, and for his 
services gets a few shillings per day, on/y. Just so with 
these Avenuedles — a great deal of show, without much 
reality. 

The old Knickerbocker does not do this. When he puts 
down his foot, there it rests till somebody else pulls it 
up for him ; the go-ahead Yankee is the man I am describ- 
ing. Now I will tell you what a Siiob is, in the New-York 
acceptation of the term. 

A Snob is an upstart, who is aping greatness, rich people, 
and those to the " manor born." The ignoramus who is for- 
tunate enough to get rich either by labor or otherwise, and 
attempts to lead, or even keep up with the manners and 
customs of the rich and wise. Not that an honest mechanic 
is not as good, aye, better than the man to the " manor born," 
but it is the pretender I am after. There are many 
men Avho set out in life poor and friendless, as butchers, me- 
chanics, or jobbers, &c., (fee, and make fortunes, and they 
deserve the more praise for building themselves by honest 
industry. Yet there are not a few who think these people 
not so good as those who have all their lives been floating in 
w^ealth and refined society. But it is a mistaken notion ; the 
mechanic is the most worthy, when he does not transcend his 
sphere. If you wanted to entertain two friends, you would 



174 THE AVENUEDLES. 

not invite an ignorant butcher and an eminent jurist at the 
same time. Not that the butcher is not as good as the 
judge, but that they would be badly matched for enjoying 
themselves. 

The Snob, then, is the man who suddenly becomes the 
owner of property, and sets himself up as one of the " big 
bugs," first by putting on the livery, then cringing at the 
doors of the truly refined till he is admitted, and then plumes 
himself as being the only right stamp. He gives grand fetes 
to all those of the upper walks of society that he can decoy 
into his circle — sets himself up as a judge of wines and 
cigars, opera music, paintings, (fee, (fee, when, in fact, he is 
as ignorant of all, save the wines and cigars, and liquors 
generally, as a jackass is of the French language. Buys a 
carriage, puts on a coat-of-arms, the meaning of which he 
does not understand, gets the fastest pair of horses which 
can be bought, and makes his white servant wear livery. 
This is what I call Snobism unadulterated ; and there are 
thousands upon thousands, not only in New- York city, but 
all over the country. To give you an example,— Simeon 
Draper, Esquire, is a Snob of the first water. You know 
him and his history — everybody does ; well, he is a Snob, and 
I could name more of the same sort, but it is needless. 

Many of these Snobs, finding that they cannot get up such 
a circle as they would like to float in at a fashionable residence, 
take a private table at some one of the upper crust hotels, 
the New-York Hotel, or the Union Place, for instance. Here 
they meet with those of the dignitaries who happen to stop 
at the house, as all persons meet and talk, and exchange 
common civilities in a hotel, which they would not do at their 
private dwellings. This answers for the Snob ; this is the 
best he can do, and he puts up with it. ' When you hear him 
speak of the Hon. Such-a-one, Judge So-and-so, or Gov. Some- 



THE AVENUEDLES. 175 

body, you would imagine they were boon-companions, if you 
did not know the reverse was the fact. 

There are many of this class of persons who pay as high 
as $10,000 a year board, some more, at hotels and fashiona- 
ble watering-places. I know one family that pays $500 per 
week the year round (wines excluded), and only four in num- 
ber, so you can calculate the bill at your leisure. 

The young scions of Snobdom lead all the feats of daring, 
such as backing out a police-officer, driving the fastest team 
on the Third Avenue, or that goes to the Abbey, the ball- 
room etiquette, wearing the latest fashions, sporting the most 
unexceptionable goatee, and being the best judge of turtle 
soup, (fcc, &c. He rises at 11 A, m., and dines at 5 ; drives 
an hour or two, then attends the opera, and tips off with a 
spree at Florence's. To give you an idea of the way these 
larks run things into the ground, — one of them ordered " a 
supper for two or three of his friends, to cost fifty dollars." 
They met, and enjoyed themselves to their hearts' content, 
and ordered up " the bill ;" it was $48 T5. The indignant 
young snob sent for the proprietor, and asked him if he did 
not order a supper to cost $50 ? The landlord said, " You 
ordered a supper for ' two or threej and I did not know 
whether to prepare for three or five, so I thought I would 
charge you with what you got^ and no more." At which the 
young gentleman became furious, and said that he had or- 
dered the supper to cost $50, and it should ; whereupon he 
pulled out a $50 bill, spread some butter on a slice of baker's 
bread, laid the bill smoothly thereon, and deliberately eat 
the whole together. 

The young ladies are seen, at all the hours in the day in 
which it will dare do to be seen out^ in the leading stores, 
examining the latest patterns, and turning up their pretty 
noses at the ordinary-looking customers who may chance to 



176 THE AVENUEDLES. 

be in at the same time. At night they are the last at the 
ball or party {if one is to he gone to) — if not, the opera, just 
in time to interrupt the most exquisite part of the perform- 
ance. After being fairly seated, she raises her opera-glass 
to her eyes, and begins a series of ogling, tittering, bowing, 
turning around, teetering and bobbing up and down, which 
would do credit to any tilt-tail upon the banks of a millpond. 
All these little preliminaries smd fashionable gyrations being 
gone through with, according to the most approved manner, 
she commences an essay of whispering criticism to her com- 
panion, which would add renown to the most famed magpie 
in Christendom. Just so in church, or any place she may 
honor with her divine presence. 

The old people are leaders in all the philanthropic and 
benevolent societies, particularly those which publish the 
names of their members, and the amount contributed. They 
take great interest in the welfare of the poor heathens, the 
Hottentots, and savages. Their names are always first on 
the subscription list for raising a service of plate to give the 
dandified and foppish minister who has flattered their vanity, 
or is courting daugjiter Juliana Clementina Phoebiana ; when 
the Irish servant girl, probably, is only half-paid, half-clothed, 
half-fed, and overworked. 

Old Mr. Snob bu^s a seat in some Bank Direction, rents 
a pew in Grace Church, is an honorary member of a Foreign 
Missionary Society, and a life officer of the Cheap Postage 
Association. Mrs. Snob is president of the Tattling and 
Backbiting Society, a leading director in the Gadabout Com- 
pany, and a prominent member of the Old Women's Gos- 
siping Club. 

Such is Snobism, not only in New- York, but the world 
over ; and I suppose you are as tired listening to my illus- 



THE AVENUEDLES. 177 

tration as I am telling it, so we will drop in at Taylor's and 
get some of the good things of this transitory life, while 
" time is on the wing." 

To-morrow will, I trust, be a pretty morning, and if so, I 
shall call at about sunrise, to take you around the Battery 
and through the different Parks of the city. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

PARKS, ETC. 

This is the Battery — handsome place — fine breeze always 
stirrmg — splendid view of the harbor and shipping. Around 
this place was considered a few years back the most desira- 
ble to live at in the city, and all the wealth and aristocracy 
had their residences here if possible. Now, I believe, there 
is but one family who pretends to move in the upper story of 
society remaining. State-street then w^as all that was ne- 
cessary to be attached to the No. of your house to make it 
the " time of day." But Shiloh has come^ and the sceptre 
departed from Judah according to promise. 

That is Castle Garden, the famous " old castle," which 
has held so many public meetings, as well as the place where 
the Swedish Nightingale warbled her first notes in the hear- 
ing of Brother Jonathan. I was there on that occasion, and 
consider it an era in my history. The whole appearance of 
Castle Garden I think is rather tame — positively dull — but 
when you are in it the dulness is dispelled, and you behold a 
magnificent hall ; it is not so elegantly finished or furnished, 
but large and imposing. From here, it resembles an over- 
grown mud-turtle, more than any thing I can think of now. 
We Avould go in, but it is too early. We can come to the 
opera one of these nights. I am sorry it is so foggy that we 



PARKS, ETC. 179 

cannot see the forts ; there are two in sight, also a pretty 
view of Staten Island and Jersey City. 

Here sits a poor wretch who has no place to lay his head, 
and has slept upon that bench all night. See that family of 
emigrants ; I would imagine they landed yesterday, and had 
their baggage stolen from them, and having nothing to pledge 
for their lodging, had to do without, or take such as could be 
got in this place — rather airy, but certainly democratic. 
That poor woman and child, I wonder what upon earth has 
kept her out all night — we'll ascertain. Good woman, you 
are up early this morning ? " Oh, dear me, I am a lone 
woman now ; my husband went off and left me six weeks 
ago, just before this poor dear creature was born. I had no 
money, and I could not work, so I sold what I could to pay 
my board ; the last penny gave out a week ago yesterday, 
and I am turned out of doors." 

That is a hard case ; but I suppose that your husband 
has gone off to make money for you and the baby, and will 
soon be back. 

" No, no ; he was no service to me when here, as he 
drank up all the money he could lay his hands upon ; but 
so long as I could work Ave were able to keep along ; but 
since I have been sick, I have had a hard time." 

May be if you had a few dollars you could find a place to 
stay till you got able to work, and all would be well again ? 

" Yes, yes, but I have no friends or relations to go to, 
and I cannot work ; my eyes are so weak that I cannot." 

Well, madam, here is something towards getting you 
along ; it is but little, it is all I am able to spare, but cheer- 
fully given ; and when that beast of a husband comes back, 
don't you let him know where you live. 

" He will be sure to find me, and when he is sober he is 
a fine man ; thank you, sirs." 



180 

That's human nature, " kiss the rod that smites you ;" 
poor woman, she has a rough voyage before her, yet there 
are thousands in the higher walks of life who would gladly 
exchange places with this poor miserable creature. 

Yonder comes a pair of morning promenaders, two girls 
out to catch a mouthful of morning air ; the healthy sea breeze, 
and may be to see their gay Lotharios^ without the know- 
ledge or consent of mamma and papa. See how they swing 
along as happy as birds, not having a care upon their 
thoughts, save their lovers and lessons. What is the reason 
every body cannot be happy ? 

There goes a loving couple, just married, or just about to 
be, I don't know which. The lady is particularly agreeable, 
and by no means ugly. 

Here's a jolly old salt, looks like an Englishman ; he's 
taking a morning walk and a smoke, all to himself. Ship 
ahoy ! 

"'Ow's yer 'onors this morning?" (I told you so.) 

Oh pretty fair ; how goes the world with you ? 

" Very well, very well ; fine morning this to take a little 
fresh hair (air) ; helegant." 

Been long ashore, old boy ? 

" Not Aoverly, do you see ; the captain is hout upon a run 
with some land-lubbers, and there's no knowing when 'e'll be 
ready for sea." 

I suppose you take things easy ! 

" Oh yes, oh yes." 

Happy old cock, that, independent as the day is long ; 
it's all the same to him upon shore or upon sea ; it is probable 
that he has been so long upon the ocean, or rather away 
from home, that were he back, he would not know a soul ; 
taken when a boy on board, and kept there till an old man, 
leaving no parents that he knew, of course it is all the same 



PARKS, ETC. 181 

where he lands ; all earth, as well as all water, is the same 
to him. 

This is a foreigner, an Italian or Spaniard, I don't know 
which, cannot understand him, so we let him pass ; a savage- 
looking devil. 

Here comes a group out of Greenwich-street, they have 
had their breakfast, and sallied out to see what sort of a 
town they have come to ; Irish emigrants just landed. How 
green they look ; the veriest negro upon a low-country plan- 
tation, looks sensible to that party. Imagine yourself in 
Ireland now for ten minutes, and that would be the sort of 
creatures you would be amongst. It would be delightful, eh ? 
" When I was in India," or " Constantinople," as our friend 
the doctor would preface his story, I took several occasions 
to visit the poor of Ireland, and also England, no tongue can 
tell the story ; you must see to believe. These, you must 
understand, are such as can get away, now what must be the 
condition and appearance of those who cannot? You can 
form some idea. To be sure there are not a few of the most 
abject and wretched sent away by some cold and heartless 
landlord, but you hardly ever see them in our streets. Go 
to the hospital, alms-house, and poor-houses, and there you 
may be gratified with a sight of the picture if you desire, (no, 
I believe not, you will say, and you are right.) It is no 
pleasure to look upon the misery of our fellow-creatures. I 
do wish I had never left my country home. 

The Battery is free to all; the dandy and the beggar are 
upon the same footing. Everybody who will " keep off the 
grass" (see that sign-board), is at liberty to enjoy all the plea- 
sure or benefit of a promenade within its limits. It is al- 
ways, when the weather is fine, especially in the morning 
and evening, filled with some sort of people, generally a mix- 
ture of all. 



182 PARKS, ETC. 

Breakfast would not be objectionable, and suppose we 
turn out. This is " Bowling Green," it has a fine name, not 
to be any thing more of a place ; it is not larger than a Lon- 
don Duffle blanket. There are some verses dedicated to the 
Bowling Green, by a crazy poet, which, to one who never 
savr it, would make you believe it was the most delightful 
spot upon the face of nature. You see what sort of a subject 
he took for his poetical genius to idolize. Now to breakfast 
and then to the Parks. 

The city regulations are not so rigid here as in the 
"City of Brotherly Love ;" there you are not allowed to 
smoke in the Parks and Squares. So we can enjoy our 
cigars as well as the pleasure of a stroll through these pub- 
lic grounds. 

This is the Park, here is the fount ; how magnificently 
the water shoots up some thirty feet into the air, and then 
how gracefully it curves over and falls into the basin, now 
upon this side, then in that direction, just as the wind hap- 
pens to be. A few of those beautiful golden fish used to be 
in here. I don't know what has become of them ; died out, 
I reckon. 

That is the City Hall, where Justice is sitting, holding 
her balances every day in the week. I have been in but 
seldom ; rather dull place, unless you have business. These 
parks and public squares act as lungs for the city to breathe 
through, or it would sufibcate outright in a short time. 

You never see the Park empty — never ; and I have seen 
it when another person could not be got inside the palings, 
unless he was thrown in upon the heads of others, or into 
that pool of water. Some one is here all the time, scudding 
in some direction or other. To the east of the City Hall is 
the Emigration Office and the Croton Aqueduct building. In 
rear are various departments, also the Law Library, and 



PARKS, ETC. 183 

other halls, &c., &c. ; nothing either new, novel, or interest- 
ing, so we'll pass over to the Park known as St. John's 
Square. This is situated between Varick and Hudson streets 
on one side, and Beach and Laight streets on the other. Rather 
small, I think ; though smallest, the handsomest, there be- 
ing many flowers and shrubs, evergreens, &c., (fee. ; summer- 
houses to sit in, pigeon-houses, trees, (fee. 

The next is AVashington Square (or Parade Ground, as 
it is sometimes called), bounded on the east by University 
Place, south by Fourth-street, west by Macdougal-street, 
and north by Waverly Place. This is a very plain and plea- 
sant-looking place, and where all the "sogering" is done by 
the New-York militia. There are, as you see, a good many 
small trees in the way, but it answers very well. This is an 
aristocratic part of the cit}^, as Fifth Avenue commences at 
midway the square. We will go up University Place (these 
places are all streets, " place " is the aristocratic manner of 
calling them), to Union Place Park. Here, 3^ou see, is some 
display in the way of flowers and shrubbery, (fee. ; another 
fount, and generally a crowd of " upper tens " sitting or 
walking to and fro around it. This is a fine place for flirta- 
tion, as you are frequently hid from view by the shrubbery. 
In the evening, after the sun gets below the tops of the 
houses, it is a lovely retreat when the dust is not trouble- 
some. 

Above us, immediately on the east side of the Fifth Ave- 
nue, between Twenty- third and Twenty -fifth streets, is situ- 
ated Madison Square, but as it is yet in its infancy, we will 
not go up ; in time, however, this Avill be worth a visit. 
That square is nearly opposite the Bellevue Alms-house, 
which is on the East River shore. 

We will now go across through Fifteenth-street till we 
come to Avenue A, then down it till we get to Tompkins 



184 PARKS, ETC. 

Square, which is between Avenues A and B and Sixth snd 
Tenth streets, and is the largest, by long odds, in town ; yet 
this go-aheadism of the Yankee spirit will not rest contented, 
and one is contemplated upon the " grand double-action im- 
provement scale," to contain a hundred acres or more, out on 
the east of the Receiving Reservoir. Tompkins Square is, as 
I told you, not only the largest, but the driest-looking place 
of them all ; the size is all that can recommend it as yet, but 
time will give it beauty. 

You can observe as we pass, there are other smaller places 
where one street intersects " slantindicularly " with another, 
in which a space is oftentimes left, and frequently decorated 
in the centre by a bunch of shrubbery, but not of sufficient 
importance to merit a name. 

It is a good long ride to the Ferry, yet I think the ride 
will pay ; so we will go over to Hoboken. We will take 
Eighth-street, and pass Astor Place ; this is a small triangle, 
which is completely filled up with the Astor Place Theatre — 
thence down, or rather across, through Waverley Place to 
Christopher-street, and to the Ferry, which is nearly oppo- 
site Hoboken village. These boats are not so near up to 
snuff as those that leave Barclay-street, which you remember 
runs down from the Astor House to the North River, or 
Hudson. 

We are over ; and you see that it is no wonder so many 
persons visit this place during the summer months, especially at 
nights and on holidays. Yes, I have seen on the great Ger- 
man festival, St. (some one's) day, fifteen thousand Dutch 
over here. Don't you remember, not long ago, reading an 
account of the Hoboken Riot, on or about the 20th of May ? 

This is a nice place for " a row," particularly in the 
Elysian Fields. ISow we will take this path, and go up by 
the Sibyl's Cave ; quite a romantic place, fixed up on purpose 



PARKS, ETC. 185 

for lovesick couples, to bill and coo away the fleeting mo- 
ments of a summer's evening. This carries us near the 
water's edge, through this retreat of lovers, as well as round 
the point up to the Fields. 

We can see the city of " York," as the Yankees term it 
(and I suppose the habit of being economical makes them do 
so, thereby saving the word Neiv), better from this place than 
any other, I think. There's the city ; and if the movements 
and thoughts of its inhabitants could be seen at once, what a 
scene would be presented to the beholder ! ! Just to think, 
for an instant, what a multiplicity of actions, and motives, 
and feelings, would be revealed. Every feeling which ac- 
tuates the human breast would be exposed in a thousand 
places. Even if the tops of the houses were taken off, what 
a spectacle would be unfolded, think ! it turns my head ; 
thoughts crowd upon my mind, like a fire-alarmed audience 
upon a theatre door, so many and so fast that hardly any 
can escape. 

Y^'ou would see the minister feeding his flock, the butcher 
his, the milkman his, the baker his, the rumseller his, the 
hotel-keeper his, and all that sort of thing ; the gambler, 
the merchant, the beggar, the banker, the clerk ; the author, 
the editor, the drayman, the policeman, the omnibus driver ; 
the drum, the fop, the mechanic, the artist, the loafer ; the 
porter, the drunkard, the hatter, the tailor, the doctor, lawyer, 
broker, the lover, the murderer, the thief; the sick, the lame, 
the halt, the blind, the hungry, the naked, the assassin, the 
seducer, the adulterer ; the poor, the rich, the high, the low, 
the dying, and the dead, all, all at their avocations and call- 
ings — a scene which it would defy Bedlam itself to equal. 

But we will go, as dinner will be ready ere our trip is 
ended if we stay here ; and I, you know, am one of Burwell's 
boarders, who, it is said, " nevej^ missed a meaV We are 



186 PARKS, ETC. 

now in the Elysian Fields, quite a pleasant place to romp, 
and play cricket, &c. Up here you see Hoboken Heights, 
where a number of persons have residences w^ho do business 
in New-York. This is the Cricket Ground, and it looks as if 
a match had lately come off — ^yesterday evening, I guess. 
You'll observe that there are some pretty handsome buildings 
over here ; there, that is quite a block ; and here is a ship- 
building yard. One of the Stephens's sent the yacht Ame- 
rica to the World's Fair, which beat all of those which con- 
tended in the match. 

In time to he left^ so we will have to wait fifteen minutes 
for the next boat. I'll invite myself to dine with you again, 
and after dinner, will give you a treatise upon servant girls, 
Irish, English, Dutch, French, (fee. (fee. 



CHAPTER XXIY. 



SERVANT GIRLS. 



The relationship between the servant girl and her em- 
ployer, is nearly the same as that of master and slave. The 
duties expected and exacted are precisely the same. The 
respect, and obedience, and humility required, are also nearly 
the same. But here the similarity ceases, as the employer 
has not the care or responsibility of their welfare upon his 
mind. If the girl, or servant (I shall call them) is sick, her 
wages stop, and she is sent to the hospital, or her friends, if 
she has any, and another hired in her stead. If she dies, 
she is buried by her friends, or the city authorities, and this 
is the last thought given of her ever having existed. 

There are two sorts of servants, Catholic and Protestant. 
A few Americans, I am sorry to say, have been compelled. — 
I say compelled, as I feel that nothing but compulsion would 
ever induce a native-born American to assume the character 
of a servant, and that of an extrem.e nature. A holy rever- 
ence for virtue and honesty, and sheer necessity, a combina- 
tion of circumstances rarely met with, and sometimes a de- 
pravity of mind, a reckless indifference as to position, may 
induce some few to adopt this method of gaining a livelihood. 

As a general rule, they are ignorant and dishonest, stub- 
born and lazy. They are harder to train than a common 



188 SERVANT GIRLS. 

" field hand " is to the duties and requirements about a house. 
It is a difficult matter to get one who will take the least 
pride or interest in her employer's affliirs, or has the least 
particle of forethought about any thing, save, that when she 
gets four shillings ahead of her wages she knows it, and 
gives you notice of her intention to quit your service. This, 
you see, is so much clear profit. I will give you an instance, 
and then we will walk over into Nassau-street to the largest 
intelligence office in the city, and look into it for a few mo- 
ments, then return. 

When I first came here I wanted a girl to nurse for me, 
and I advertised for " a nurse^^ in the Herald (one insertion), 
and at least fifty made application for the situation. One I 
took, which seemed the most likely to suit me. She looked 
young and really needy. After she had been with me a few 
days, I found out that she had been robbed upon her landing 
here by a set of hyenas in the shape of porters, and hack 
and draymen, who infest the wharves upon the arrival of an 
emigrant vessel. This I have been told is a profitable busi- 
ness, and many a man has got rich at it — yes, sir, rich at 
robbing poor emigrants. They generally have a box, or old 
trunk, and a dollar or two, often not so much, in it, and a few 
clothes. This is a small business ; but when so many thou- 
sands arc daily landing, it pays pretty well. But to go on. 
My girl had been robbed, and did not have a chanfi^e of 
clothes, and only two weeks in America. My wife just ar- 
riving from the country, had many old clothes which would not 
do for city wearing, and rather out of fashion, as wxll as having 
seen their best days, fit our servant girl out pretty decently. 
She seemed grateful for the fiivor, was faithful and indus- 
trious, and the children soon became fond of her, A month 
rolled round, and I gave her her wages, $4. About a week 
after, we found out that she was married, and had a young 



SERVANT GIRLS. 189 

chilfl, -which she had left, A\-ith her hushand, in " swate Ire- 
land.''^ This astonished me, and I felt like aiding the poor 
girl in getting her child and husband to her, as she said she 
had come to America to work and get money to bring them 
over, (fee. I thought this was a spirit that should be helped, 
and a true case of charity. I was green as grass myself, so 
I went down to a house who advertised that they attended to 
remitting money, and bringing over the friends of those who 
were on this side of the Atlantic, (fee. I told my story ; 
they laughed at me, and said that it was all gammon. I in- 
sisted that I was not to be so humbugged by a green Irish 
girl, and said that I would try it any how. Gave the direc- 
tions which I had got from Bridget, and told the gentleman 
that if he would bring the said John Thomas, for that was 
his name, I would pay the ^20 for his passage ; if not, I was 
to get my money back, which was agreed to and understood. 
I now went home, thinking I had done a riglitcous and reli- 
gious act. The next day, told Bridget what I had done, and 
she was grateful indeed, and thanked my honor no little — 
very thankful, very ! 

The next day she asked permission to go and see a friend 
with whom she had staid while out of employment, and said 
that slie owed her something. We let her go cheerfully, and 
she returned according to orders. The day after, she said 
to one of the children that she was "going to leave;" this 
reached my wife's ears, and she was terribly put out about 
it, as Bridget suited her exactly and she did not want to 
part company so quick. I called her np and inquired into the 
matter. I found that she had taken away what '• things " 
she had, and was determined to go — was as stubborn as a 
mule, and I could do nothing with her at all. All I got out 
of her was, that we would be going home in the f\ill, and that 
she might get her a permanent place. She went the fol- 



190 SERVANT GIRLS. 

lowing morning, and we bid her God speed. However, she 
asked for a certificate, wiiicli I gave rather rekictantly, but 
she had done what we required of her well, and was to all 
intents and purposes a good servant. 

I went down to my friend in South-street, and told him 
that I would be pleased to be oif. He readily consented, 
and said that the orders had not gone. This was a Catho- 
lic. I next tried a Protestant, but with no better success. 
I have found out now how to manage them, and get on pretty 
well. 

We will walk over, it's only a block or two, a few doors 
below the Sun office. Here's the place. " Intelligence Of- 
fice ; Servants Wanted ; Entrance for Females ; Entrance for 
Males." See what a display ; read his advertisement, and 
you would think that he could get a situation for anybody 
out of employment. Come down into the basement ; what a 
smell, ugh ! the same as we had to encounter upon the ves- 
sel the other day ; fully as bad, if not worse. Here are some 
fifty or sixt}'' sitting around upon benches, waiting for some 
one " to call." Here comes a fellow who looks as if he want- 
ed a servant. 

'• Mr. Spink, I want a servant, washer and ironer, and 
no objections to going a few miles in the country." 

" Yes, sir," responds Mr. Spink, with a bow. " Walk 
up here, cooks and washers," commands Mr. Spink. Up they 
get and stand in a line to be inspected. The gentleman sees 
one and calls her out, takes her one side and quizzes her as 
to qualifications, (fee, (fee. 

" She suits me ; how much to pay ?" 

" Four shillings only," replied Mr. Spink. 

The employer leaves his address and goes to his business, 
the girl pays her four shillings, and bids the kind man who 
got her the place good morning. 



SERVANT GIRLS. 191 

At some of these offices it is two shillings each have to 
pay, and there are hundreds scattered in every direction 
over the city. 

We now go into the male department ; wdiat a horrid 
stench ! awful ! sickening ! Let's get out of here as fast as 
possible. Here laborers are obtained in the same way. It 
is just upon the same principle as purchasing negroes, and in 
effect the same. These offices remind me of the jails in 
Richmond, where the negroes are put for safe keeping till 
disposed of; only the " negro jails " are not so filthy, nor have 
they that peculiarly disagreeable smell about them, at least 
not so infernally bad. 

Another system adopted by these girls to obtain situa- 
tions, is to advertise, and wait till the man or lady calls to 
examine. This, I think, usually the best plan to get one, as 
she generally says in the advertisement what she can do. I 
have found this the better plan. Look in the Herald and see 
what a string every morning, particularly Tuesday's issue, 
two, and sometimes six columns. Bennett gives the adver- 
tisement to servant girls at half price. Very kind in Bennett. 
You will find many really pretty girls in the situation of 
a servant, and not allowed to eat at the table or sit down in 
the room, no more than our negroes — not so much, as our 
body servants are generally impudent enough to do almost 
any thing by way of imitating their masters. These poor girls 
are made to scrub and toil from morning till night, at all 
sorts of drudgery, for from two dollars and fifty cents to six 
dollars per month, and if they don't stay their time out for- 
feit their wages, and have to go away without a certificate of 
character, which is worse than not getting their pay, infi- 
nitely. The Yankees are generally very rigid in requiring 
their papers, as in case they have none, they may be em- 
ployed almost for nothing, in order to get one. 



192 SERVANT GIRLS. 

It is so in tlie case of tlie shop-tenders ; " Where did you 
stop last V is the first question asked of an applicant ; this, 
though, is all very right, but the humiliating effect is what I 
stumble at; "that a free-born white man" should wear 
livery, the badge of inferiority to his fellow-man, is more 
than I can understand. That a negro should, is nothing 
strange, as no one but the demented fanatics can for a mo- 
ment doubt him to be an inferior being. But that the white 
man, who is, if capable and deserving, entitled to the highest 
honors which can be conferred by a free government, is 
strange, wondrously so. But why not, rather than this de- 
gradation, let them go where the country is in its maiden 
purity, among the forests of the far West, rear a home and a 
family, build up a character and a reputation that their chil- 
dren will be proud of, and not skulk about the palaces of the 
wealthy, cringe at the appearance of the arrogant or, beg from 
the haughty. Let them become tillers of the soil, cut and 
clear, and sow and plant and reap, and if they have rain and 
sunshine as other people do, they are independent and not 
slaves. 

I sometimes think that the Celtic race is an inferior species 
of the genus ho?rio, yet it can hardly be so ; oppression and 
tyranny have brought it to this degenerate state ; but thirty 
years of uninterrupted breathing of '• free " mountain air fresh 
fi'om the lofty peaks of the Alleghanies, would make this 
down-trodden race what God intended it to be, intelligent 
and enlightened. My plan of colonization of the emigrants 
would bring about this change. The poor Celt is not the 
only one it would benefit, but the Dutch, and Swede, the 
Polander, and Italian ; in fact, all the oppressed of Europe 
who seek refuge and an asylum upon our shores. But I am 
getting off the subject. 

These girls have no stimulant to improve their faculties, 



SERVANT GIRLS. 193 

as they are not admitted in society, or even receive any of 
its benefits. They trudge and toil from morning till night, 
and attend mass when they can beg the time, and this is all 
they can expect or hope. There is no inducement to culti- 
vate their minds, as no ray of hope of improvement or ad- 
vancement in their condition is given them. If they were 
placed where they could advance in position and society, 
their minds would soon develope. 

Not so with '• Cuffee ;" all the assistance in this way 
would make him worse, only savageize (if I may be allowed to 
coin a word) and render him unfit for any thing. He is at 
the acme of his glory w^hen waiting upon his master, and all 
the abolitionists can say or do, will not make it otherwise. 

There are thousands of these poor girls out of employ- 
ment in New-York, who live, or rather breathe, with some 
kindred family who '-'wash out days," and rent a ten by 
twelve feet room, in a house where fifty or sixty other fami- 
lies of the same sort reside. This presents another theme 
for thought, but I will go on. They stay in the same room, 
and pay four or six shillings a week board, and by pledging 
their bonnets and clothes find means to subsist some time. 
They are generally virtuous, especially the Catholics, for two 
reasons, first, because the priest or the Sister of Mercy tells 
them to be so ; and next, because there are so many who are 
not, of the natives, who have more fascinating manners, to be 
found in every direction. Then, again, their rooms and 
houses which they live in will not decoy the unguarded, and, 
too, they are not permitted to enjoy the privileges of the 
assignation houses. 

Here they croAvd by the dozens, and stay till an opportu- 
nity presents itself for employment, which is often a godsend, 
and makes their depressed and dejected hearts leap for joy. 
It has been said, by some wiseacre no doubt, " that one half 

9 



194 SERVANT GIRLS. 

of the world does not know how the other lives," and it is a 
true observation. The countryman, who has a snug little 
farm and a home, no matter how humble or destitute of stores 
and comforts, knows not how well he is off in this world. 
His ignorance of the destitution and sufferings of his fellow- 
creatures is another source of pleasure, (a sort of bull, eh ?) 
he gains by not learning how the other half lives. " "When 
ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." 

Another peculiarity of these Catholic servants is, when a 
brother in the faith or their priest tells them any thing, you 
might as well say "peace, be still," to the waves of the 
ocean with the expectation of being obeyed, as to attempt to 
convince them to the contrary. These poor creatures are 
raised to hardships and labor, consequently can bear more 
than the young milliner girl, who sickens and dies at almost 
every contrary wind, and are therefore seldom found in the 
poor-houses or hospitals until very aged. 

To-night I shall call, after jDusiness, and take you to one 
of the station houses. 



CHAPTER XXV. 



STATION HOUSES. 



The " station " houses are the places where the police ren- 
dezvous to receive-orders, and report, (fee, and also where 
the rowdies and evil doers who are taken up after eight 
o'clock p. M., are kept till the hour of their appearance be- 
fore His Honor at the Tombs. The Captain stays here all the 
time, as well as a few of the "off" duty men, and occasion- 
ally a supernumerary in case of an accident. We will take 
the nearest, as they are all alike ; however, as I happen to 
know one of the Captains, we had better go there, may be he 
will allow us more privileges. 

Rattle, rattle goes the rattletrap, and a dozen or fifteen 
men form a line in front of the Captain's desk to answer to 
their names ; this done, they receive their orders and set 
out for their " walks." One by one the old guard comes in, 
when they lay by their clubs and pull off their stars, go to 
bed or put out for home. 

Here comes a little girl crying as if her life was at stake. 
" Captain, mamma says you must send an officer round there, 
as a man is killins; her. Boo. boo !" 

" Where does your mamma live, my little daughter ?" 
' inquires the imperturbable Captain. 

" Right round in Thomas-street, No. — ," she answers. 



196 STATION HOUSES. 

" Well, we'll see to it," remarks our man again. 

The little girl returns, and the Captain calls up one of 
the " loafing patrol," and starts him on his mission to bring 
in the offenders. 

He soon returns with the woman, as she seems, in the 
absence of her " runner," to have got the best of the fight. 
Without any sort of question or preliminary remark, she is 
taken below, placed in a six by four cell to await her exami- 
nation in the morning. She has with her a little boy two 
and a half years old, and a child at the breast ; the girl is 
sent home " to mind the house till mother comes back." 

" There now, madam, you can cool off at your leisure, with- 
out any one interfering," says the " turnkey," in a tone of de- 
fiance, as she had given him some trouble in getting her to 
the station house. 

In comes a poor lost stranger, about as drunk as men 
get to be usually, held up by two officers. He had been 
drinking and kicking up a muss, and at last got up a low- 
priced fight which landed him in the " lock-up." 

" No danger, Jim, of his getting out ; too drunk : just 
throw him down on the floor any where, so it is down beloAv; 
there, roll him up by the pump, a little water would do him 
good." 

You see another is stowed away ; he will be carried to- 
morrow before the judge, who will sentence him to five days' 
imprisonment in the five day hall, or rather yard, and this is 
an end to his case. 

Here is an old lady who has no place to stay, probably 
lost, or half blind at best. She asks permission to remain 
all night, in order to be protected ; what an idea ! that a 
woman has to ask leave to remain in a station house ; it is 
cold comfort, really. The poor soul takes a seat upon a 
bench near the drunken man to await daybreak. What can 
man be reduced to ?- Think of that poor old soul ! 



STATION HOUSES. 197 

" What's the matter there, boys ?" says the Captain. 
Only another devil who has been drinking and disturbing 
the peace and dignity of the Commonwealth. " Get in ; you 
might as well go peaceably as forcibly, for you have to go." 
Me, you see, has got some life in him, and is put in a cell 
similar to the woman. 

" Is he dead ?" '* I believe he is, by jingo !" " What in 
the world was the matter with him ?" asked the Captain of 
the two first speakers, who were bringing in the body of a 
dead man. 

" Delirium tremens, I believe ; he looks like a case of 
that character," answers one of the officers, who had assisted 
in bringing the body in. 

" Where did you find him ?" again interrogates the 
Captain. 

" Why, round yonder in Church-street, in front of one of 
them rum-cellars. I found him on the side-walk ; he was 
breathing very hard when I took him up, but seemed to draw 
his breath easier after we got to the corner," said the other 
man who had helped to bring him into the house. 

'• No wonder he drew his breath easier," said the Captain. 
" Take him in the back room ; get the plank and lay him 
out," he continued. 

The men now take a plank, place it upon two chairs, lay 
the body upon it, take an old cotton handkerchief and tie up 
his jaws, throw an old piece of cloth or coat over his face, 
and return to their respective beats as if nothing had hap- 
pened out of the ordinary course of things. Nor had any 
thing, as such scenes and cases as those occur nightly. The 
Coroner is summoned to attend in the morning. 

" Who have you there now, boys T asks the Captain, upon 
hearing a scuffle and grunting at the door, and the heavy 
tramping of feet. 



198 STATION HOUSES. 

" A fellow who has been trying to break into a house 
round here in Thomas -street," answers one of the men who 
were assisting in with the prisoner. 

It appears that he had been drinking and eating at a 
rum-shop, and grew very noisy, w^as asked very politely to 
leave, when he got into a passion and said he would not. 
He was then requested to be quiet, which he refused to do, 
and after a reasonable time he was put out vi et armis, and 
was found by the officer trying to regain his stronghold, who 
succeeded in getting him here, where he is " put up " for 
safe-keeping. 

What a mixture they will have by morning to present to 
His Honor ! You see it is only nine o'clock, yet there are 
many more to come ere the sun makes his appearance over 
the hills in the east. 

This fellow walks very tamely in. " Who have you 
there, Charley ?" asks the Captain. The officer now goes up 
to the Captain, and tells him in an undertone that his prisoner 
has been accused of buying a lot of gold from a negro, know- 
ing it to be stolen, about two thousand dollars worth for sixty 
dollars. " Will you step this way, sir," says the Captain. 
" What is your name ?" He gives it, and he is carried to 
his cell very orderly and civilly. 

Here comes a jabbering Frenchman in a rage. He has 
been drinking a few drops too much, and meeting with a lady 
upon the streets, becoming rather familiar, was arrested and 
brought here to answer therefor. 

What a profusion of words, not to understand a single 
sjdlable ; however, it all will not avail him ; he has to re- 
main till morning, when, if the lady in question does not 
appear against him, he will be released with payment of costs. 

Thus, you see, it is a continual stream the whole night 
long; and as the small hours approach, the arrivals in- 



STATION HOUSES. 199 

crease, and when morning comes there will be fifteen or 
twenty, out of which ten at least will be escorted to the 
Tombs ; half will give bail or be released, may be all, except 
the " five-day birds," and sent away to abide their trials. 
When you reflect that there are fifteen or twenty of these 
station houses, returning each a dozen, the number is swell- 
ed to a considerable extent. No wonder you see so many 
poor little children hanging about the Tombs of a morning. 

This is not one night in the week, or one week in the 
month, but every night the year round, from the first day of 
January to the thirty-first day of December, without the 
slightest abatement, Sundays not excepted. The Tombs is 
not opened on Sundays, but the station houses are, which is 
sure to save " the game " till Monday morning. 

Now you see how well my colonization scheme would 
work ; it would not only give these poor devils a home, but 
employment, and not only so, but rid the industrious of the 
nuisance, taxation, and trouble. 

The millions expended yearly in this way, keeping up 
the police regulations as well as the expense of the crimi- 
nals and paupers, would in a few years almost be done 
away. 

But you say this is a free country, and that it would be 
giving license to idleness. Granted ; but is a man allowed 
to erect a gallows in the street, and hang himself whenever 
he sees fit, because he is in a free country? Or is a man to 
interfere with the afi*airs of his neighbor, to become a tax 
upon him and a burden to society, because he is in a free 
land ? By no means. But in case he does become a nui- 
sance and a tax, have not the Free People the right to take 
care of him in such a manner as they deem compatible with 
their interests and judgment? Look at the Penitentiary 
system. You might ask what right the laws had to compel 



200- STATION HOUSES. 

a free man to labor for the State, as j^ou know that in many 
this is a source of revenue. Why not make them improve the 
soil and enhance its value ? I can see no sort of objection. 

This is a grand speculation, and if successful, it would add 
to the revenue, as in the case of the penitentiary. However, 
I am honestly opposed to a State having a dollar more money 
than is actually necessary to defray an economical administra- 
tion of its affairs. Should this prove to be a greater source 
of revenue than was needed, expend the residue philanthro- 
pically. But I will not add any more of this grand scheme, 
as it may prove uninteresting at present. 

Bedlam has certainly broke loose. What a confusion of 
voices ! Here is a lot of w^omen who have been rioting and 
frolicking with a drunken set of rowdies, and all have got 
drunk together and kicked up a general melee. Let's leave 
them to " hive " the party, as it might be safer where the 
crowd is not so boisterous. 

Let them settle their affairs to their liking ; we will go 
homewards. Suppose we walk through Church-street, and 
see what is going on in that quarter once more. 

Hark ! is that not singing ? Hold on ! Yes, it's music 
of some sort — vocal. Why it is just in front of us, on the 
corner of Duane-street. Stop — listen. It is a fellow sing- 
ing a temperance song. I suppose he has had a temperance 
meeting, and is now singing. He's carrying the war into 
Africa, eh? — in front of a doggery — that's the way — root 
them out, old boy. He has a very res-pectMe-sized audi- 
ence, at any rate. 

Hear his song — it is to the tune of '• Oh Susannah, don't 
you cry for me." Here's the chorus : 

" Oh, rumseller, don't you cry for me, 

I'm going to sign the temperance pledge, and gain my liberty." 



STATION HOUSES. 201 

Pretty good, eh ? He is a zealous worker in the warfare 
of temperance. I hope he may meet Avith great success — he 
deserves it. By the way, let's see one of them circulars he 
is handing about. " Will you give me a copy, sir ?" my 
friends asks of the singer. " For two pennies, I will," an- 
swers our temperance hero. The mystery is explained; 
selling a song for tivo pence — a money -making operation. 
We are bit — now let's go home. The almighty dollar ruleth 
still. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

ARTISTS NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 

As this subject is not of general interest, I shall be as brief 
as possible. Few take less interest in such matters than I 
do, yet in order to say something upon matters pertaining 
to information, as well as amusement, it may not be out of 
place to allude to artists. 

Before the rank and file of all who have made the stage 
a profession, stands Edwin Forrest as their Captain. 

To speak of Forrest as an artist is but a waste of labor ; 
all know him in this light from the least to the greatest. All 
that can be said, pro as well as con., has been said both by 
admirers as well as foes. Yet all acknowledge that he has 
attained the highest round on the ladder of fame in his pro- 
fession. Whatever I might say would be but a repetition of 
what has already been said, no matter which side of the 
fence I might take. As you have never seen this gentle- 
man, what I have to offer will be wholly of a personal nature. 

If — what a " trimenjus " word that if is ! — if, I say, For- 
rest was one inch higher, he would be a jjerfect model of a 
man, and Powers, in his palmiest days, could not chisel an 
equal out of marble. This is saying a great deal, but not 
too much. He is one of the finest formed men / ever saw. 
Forrest was born of humble but respectable parents, in Phil- 



ARTISTS NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 203 

adelpliia, about forty -five years ago, and has, by his energy, 
talent, and perseverance, not only built a never-dying name, 
but a comfortable, yea, handsome property. The best thing 
which can be said of him, is, that when he had accumulated 
sufficient wealth above his actual necessities, he placed his 
mother and sisters beyond the reach of want, who, by the 
way, were in indigent circumstances. Kindness and atten- 
tion to one's mother is the highest encomium that can be 
paid to the character of man. I never saw a man who neg- 
lected or ill-treated his mother who was any thbig to him- 
self or others. 

Forrest has his faults and troubles, as all other men, and 
I shall not attempt to vindicate the one or soothe the other, 
but speak of what has come within the range of my " critic's 
eye," having had a good opportunity of judging his actions 
and conduct, and shall speak of him impartially. Not hav- 
ing a personal and intimate acquaintance with him, I am not 
biased in my opinions either way. We met at a dinner given 
him in Augusta, Ga., some eight years ago, but since then 
we have passed but few words ; yet I, without his knowledge, 
have kept my eye upon all his movements. 

The difficulty which occurred in relation to Macready 
was not of his originating, and he was as much pained at the 
result as any one connected with the unfortunate affair. It 
was the jealousy of his "over-loving friends," who were 
blinded with their admiration of the man. They could not 
bear to acknowledge that he had a rival, in addition to the 
ill-treatment their favorite received in England upon one 
occasion — their precipitancy and blindness alone caused the 
trouble. He was above any such revenge, and should not be 
held responsible for the mad and rash acts of enthusiastic 
mobs, no more than the signers of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence should be for the bursting of cannons and loss of 



204 ARTISTS — NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 

life at fourth of July celebrations. In his intercourse with 
his fellow men he is upright, just, and liberal, temperate and 
regular in his habits. 

As to his domestic troubles with his wife, I would venture 
a word. There is not a sensible and impartial man who 
would not say, after reading the testimony adduced on the 
trial for a divorce, that " there icas something lurong on the 
part of his wife." It was as plain as the nose upon a man's 
face (provided he had a nose) that she transgressed the rules 
of decorum and propriety in permitting the revels (as proved 
by the witnesses on both sides) at her house during his ab- 
sence, and persons to visit the house whom he had strictly for- 
bid entering. The nightly scenes of debauchery which were 
enacted while he was away, were highly reprehensible, and 
more especially when the actors therein never were seen in 
the house when Mr. Forrest was at home. Here is glaring 
disobedience upon the part of a wife who had plighted her 
faith " to honor, respect, and obey," I don't justify any of 
Forrest's acts ; I only speak o^ facts as they are. 

She was one of the " down-trodden people " of England 
(not Hungary) whom he had elevated to " a 'place and fosi- 
tion^^ in society worthy of any one. The giddy altitude to 
which he elevated her, rendered her head dizzy; she fell 
from the lofty heights, and landed in the mud and filth of 

. ! Few minds, and more especially woman's, are strong 

enough to bear promotion, particularly when suddenly trans- 
ferred from poverty and obscurity to wealth and standing. 

The truth is, Forrest's love had been changed into mad- 
ness, his judgment was clouded, he was not " Richard." He 
was surrounded by a gang of horse-leeches and ignorant ad- 
visers. They robbed him of his purse, and were fast filching 
him of his good name ; but the lawsuit ended the harvest of 
these reapers. His legal advisers were no better, or at least 



ARTISTS NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 205 

wofully ignorant. On the other hand, Mrs. Forrest had 
some very shrewd and cunning lawyers, who took advantage 
of their prey, who was floundering about in the meshes which 
the "green-eyed monster" and their cunning had woven for 
him ; the result was, he fell, legally, but not justly^ victiin- 
ized. He was rash and impolitic, as well as misguided by 
designing and dishonest friends. She was cool and collected, 
and got artful and self-interested persons to manage her cards 
for her. There is not the slightest doubt on these points. 
Look at her course since the trial — that's enough to show 
any one what was her aim and object. Bennett, with his 
wonted perception, was right when he said, that " she being 
born and schooled in turmoil and dissipation, and reared in 
constant excitement, could not live without it." 

But enough. Forrest will outlive all the clamor and 
slander which has been raised at his heels, and all those who 
join in the hue and cry. But she will gradually sink, step 

by step into (a sense of forbearance forbids my saying 

where). 

Of the living male artists (native), there are few who 
rank above mediocrity upon the boards at this day. There 
are numbers who have made the United States their home ; of 
these I will rank Brougham, Burton — the latter unquestiona- 
bly stands peerless in his line, comedy — Clarke, Johnson, 
Anderson, Neafie, Buchanan, Blake, Mitchel, Owens, and a 
host of others. There are but few worthy of the title of stars. 
Placide is a "hit" in most of his characters, but Burton 
stands first as a comedian. I have hardly ever seen him 
make any thing approximating to a miss. In many of his 
characters he is inimitable — laugh you must, and laugh you 
will if you go to hear him. There are a few others, Conway, 
Collins, Williams, Chanfrau, I may rank with the above, but 
they are idiosyncrasies — Irish and French characters. 



206 ARTISTS — NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 

Of the females, I would remark tliat there are no few 
who demand attention, and command rank high in the pro- 
fession. First of all is Charlotte Cushman, yet she was 
never a favorite of mine. She must, however, be considered 
the greatest. 

Next comes Julia Dean ; she is a pleasing actress ; lacks 
fire and energy ; yet personifies her characters well. A little 
more age and experience will bring her up to the high-water 
mark. She is pretty, which wins many admirers and friends. 
Miss Cushman has been regarded by those who judge of act- 
ing with a critic's eye as being at the head of her profession, 
and justly too. They too have, in the fulness of their hearts, 
at the same time ascribed the position, as second in the line, 
to Miss Julia Dean. AVhile I am willing to do honor to the 
high position which the unbounded reputation of Miss Cush- 
man has placed her — while I am willing to acknowledge her 
as being one of the most brilliant luminaries that ever adorned 
the American stage, I am not prepared to admit that the 
" Star of the West," because less known, twinkles with less 
splendor. The fact is, I conceive it to be a matter of some 
difficulty to compare them, their styles being as dissimilar as 
the contralto and soprano of the queens of song, Alboni and 
Sontag. 

Towards the production of the terrible, Miss C. has no 
equal. In her Meg Merrilles, for example, she is incompar- 
able ; but for the sublime and beautiful creations. Miss D. 
stands pre-eminent, her pathetic appeals to the better feel- 
ings of the heart are irresistible, the intonation of her voice 
is at once peculiar and facinating. She possesses incalcula- 
ble advantages over artists generally, on account of her ex- 
ceeding loveliness of character, and beauty and symmetry of 
face and figure. It is said she assumed the stage as her vo- 
cation more (to use her own words) " from the requirements 



ARTISTS — NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 207 

of duty, than the dictates of ambition." But enough — our 
time will not permit us longer to dwell upon this subject ; 
suffice it that Miss Cushman, having departed from the 
American boards, Julia Dean is our greatest tragediemie. 

Miss Davenport next deserves a passing notice. Some 
sa}^ she is equal to Miss Dean, but I hardly think she comes 
fully up to the mark which has been made by Miss D. upon 
the Temple of Fame. In this category I will mention " Our 
Mary," alias, Miss Mary Taylor. She has never " starred 
it " any, having never wandered far out of the sphere of New- 
York city. Notwithstanding her course has been limited, it 
has not been the less brilliant. It has been her good fortune, 
which is as seldom the lot of an actor as of a prophet, " to be 
honored in one's own country." She sings well, dances fine- 
ly, and plays either comedy or tragedy with the best of her 
cotemporaries. She has now retired to the walks of private 
life, carrying with her the best wishes of all. 

Of the foreign artists wdio have from time to time shed 
their light among us, I will mention but a few — Anderson, 
Brooke, and Kossuth. The two former are fair tragedians, 
but were not appreciated according to their merit — from this 
fact, no doubt — they were so far eclipsed by Forrest. 

Kossuth's course reminds me of a sky-rocket — goesup with 
a brilliancy, but comes doioii as they always do, unseen. He 
played "a star" engagement with the managers of the Ame- 
rican Humbug Theatre, and realized thereby the sum of 
ninety thousand dollars. He was a great artist — played 
to overflowing houses — spoke his parts well, and drew down 
thunders of applause, and showers of "material aid" from 
the " solidarity of the peoples." He formed a just conception 
of his character, acted successfully his part, but left a bad 
impression upon the feelings of his patrons by his sudden 
exit in the character of Alexander Smith ! 



208 ARTISTS — NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 

Among tlie female foreign artists, Jenny Lind being the 
most successful, deserves my first attention. Her fame and 
character was manufactured for her in New-York long before 
she reached our shores. She is undoubtedly a great artist, if 
for no other reasons than she kept up her reputation for sing- 
ing, pleased every body, and made money. We must judge 
by what is done. As an artist I'll say no more. 

Personally she was ugly, cross, and close-fisted, and had 
as cold a heart as any foreigner who ever touched our soil. 
She always made Barnum pay for all the charity concerts. 
This is not from the card, but well authenticated. She was 
the reverse of what was said of her in the papers ; there is 
no question of this at all. 

Parodi was another artist of the first water, though not 
so successful. She had no Barnum. She was intelligent, 
and well versed in her profession. Rather handsome. 

Kate Hayes is quite an ordinary woman in every respect, 
but the best disposed of the lot. I consider her a good-na- 
tured girl of twenty-five, with fair talents. 

Sontag, the greatest artist of all — but she is one of the 
'• has beens," — cannot do what she once could ; her voice 
seems to have failed or cracked ; jars, not full and round 
like Alboni's, who, by the way, is second to none in her line. 
She has voice and proficiency ; not a beauty, especially her 
figure. She will likely maintain her reputation. Sontag 
will not. 

Soto is a clever artist — not equal to Ellsler, but decid- 
edly good — generally makes an impression upon her audi- 
ences. In personal appearance she by far excels them all 
— has a beautifully chiselled face, a lively and fascinating ex- 
pression, and a most perfect form. Aged about thirty, yet 
AYould be taken to be not over twenty-three by most persons. 

Celeste you have seen. She has had her day, and is now 



ARTISTS — NATIVE AND FOREIGN. 209 

remembered as a faded flower. She danced well — was a fine 
pantomimist, and a fair actress. 

Last and least is Lola Montez. She has nothing to re- 
commend her but a diversity of genius and talent to keep 
those around her in hot water. A spoilt child with no re- 
deeming qualities. She is certainly the most stupendous 
b*** V of the day ; neither pretty nor witty. 

There are various, divers, and sundry others of all sizes, 
hues, and shades, which are not worth the time, much less 
the talent it would require to notice. Some of merit I may, 
probably, have overlooked, hope they will forgive the slip of 
memory — can't help it if they don't. 

Having arraigned quite a crowd upon the stage, I will now 
drop the curtain upon them all, and shut oif the gas. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



OCEAN STE A MSHIP 



Having spoken of Mr. Collins personally, it may not be un- 
interesting to give you an account of the origin, progress, and 
achievements of the steamships themselves. Mr. C. was the 
first to propose steam mail service for the United States, and 
it was acquiesced in by President Tyler. When Mr. Polk 
came into power, another proposition was laid by Mr. C. be- 
fore the administration, which met at first with little attention. 
However, the indomitable perseverance of the projector was 
not to be thus put to rout. About this time a bill was laid 
before Congress to build ten war steamers, and after much 
deliberation and consideration upon the part of the cabinet, 
it was agreed to strike off five of the number, and give Mr. 
C. his five, making the ten as originally proposed ; and 
thereby having five efficient war steamers at command. 

Mr. C. set about building his steamships, and putting 
into successful operation his long conceived and dearly prized 
project. In little less than three years the Atlantic was 
launched. She had not fairly touched the waters before 
every hand was raised in wonder ; she had made but a few 
strokes with her immense paddles, when simultaneously went 
up an universal shout of praise and admiration throughout 
the length and breadth of the land, as it was rendered cer- 



OCEAN STEAMSHIPS. 211 

tain that the experiment would prove more than successful. 
One trial trip to the Hook and back demonstrated the prob- 
lem. A few days of preparation, and on 27th April, 1850, 
she set sail for Liverpool, amid the loud huzzas and plau- 
dits of the multitude which thronged the wharves to wish 
her godspeed, and the deafening roar of artillery which 
greeted her as she sped by. 

In her wake followed the Pacific ; this was an improve- 
ment ; the Atlantic, the wonder of the world, was beaten. 
Next followed the Baltic, and again the last was beat. Then 
the Arctic capped the climax ; another victory was gained, 
and the supremacy of the seas was awarded to the Collins 
Line. What are we to expect when the Adriatic makes her 
appearance in her place on this line ? another and a more 
glorious victory. 

The cost of these steamships is less in proportion to size 
than any ever built, and yet the splendor and comforts of 
their accommodations are unsurpassed; in fjict, there are none 
that can be compared to them. With all these luxuries and 
speed, the fare has been materially reduced ; and a few years 
will reduce the passage, not only in money, but time, to a 
nominal amount. 

But this is not all. These steamships are built with a spe- 
cial eye to naval defence, and can be as readily converted into 
war ships, as Whipple can change one of his dissolving views, 
— instanter ; and as an arm of protection to our commerce, 
their value is incalculable. They carry more men and pro- 
visions, larger guns and more of them, and can run faster and 
longer than any vessels yet built. These steamships carry 
terror upon their very prow ; and it would take very great 
cause to get any nation into a naval engagement with 
these engines of annihilation. With this sort of feeling ex- 
isting at home and abroad, the spirit of commerce is invigor- 



212 OCEAN STEAMSHIPS. 

ated, many of the uncertainties and contingencies attending 
the trade with other nations are removed, and a general 
healthiness is kept up. What nation would have the hardi- 
hood to demand what was not rigid with a half dozen Collins 
steamships staring it in the face ? None. 

These vessels are a national protection ; and for their 
erection and success the people of this country will (if not de 
facto) in their hearts build a monument to the memory of 
their projector as high and as permanent as the Andes. 
When the government ceases to give " aid and comfort " to 
this line of steamers, then it is ungrateful. 

In general importance, this Law line of California Steam- 
ers, with its Pacific connection, which has been built up by 
the extraordinary enterprise and intelligent policy of Mr. 
George Law, if not superior to all others, certainly is not sur- 
passed by any in the world. It has been the chief means of 
conveying to California those best citizens who would not 
have gone there except through the tempting inducements of 
these safe and fast steamers, knowing that they wxre only 
transferring their families and homes from one portion of the 
Republic to another. To these steamships must California 
ever ascribe the speedy introduction of civilized life upon its 
shores, and their magic transformation from primeval solitude 
mio facsimiles of the busy cities on the Atlantic coast. On 
the other hand, the whole Union is indebted to them for the 
rapid conveyance of the mails — bringing to every community 
in the United States the much desired intelHgence from those 
formerly their neighbors — and for the safe transportation of 
immense amounts of gold. This city as the station for their 
arrival and departure, and receiving the first use of the gold 
imported, has in consequence derived more benefit than any 
other portion of the Union ; and I regard this as the very 
chief one of the causes of its wonderful growth and pros- 
perity. 



OCEAN STEAMSHIPS. 213 

" Who is this George Law ?" 

" Who is George Law," do you ask ? He is one of the 
three pillars of New-York city, and has done more since he 
came upon the stage, than all the Mayors for the last fifteen 
years, to improve and extend the general and commercial in- 
terests of the city. He is a man of great practical sense ; 
the proof of which is, that every project in which he is en- 
gaged succeeds. He has taken large government contracts, 
and faithfully performed the same. Is destined to leave a 
name as enduring as the mountains of his native State. 

In 1852 we see that the steamship interests are prosper- 
ous. They are mainly owned by New-York capitalists. A 
year ago a line was started from Boston to Liverpool, but it 
soon failed, and the steamer (S. S. Lewis) was bought by 
Vanderbilt. 

Steamers are entirely superseding ships for conveying 
passengers, and to some extent for carrying freight. There 
is constant improvement in every thing connected with their 
construction, especially in order to increase their speed. It 
is now believed that vessels of good sharp model will sail 
better for being large, hence there is a decided increase in 
the tonnage of the large steamers and ships. There is also 
a general improvement going on in their internal arrange- 
ments. 

The steamships are all built in New- York, owing to the 
superior ability of their builders, and because the chief en- 
gine foundries are here. Sailing vessels are mainly built in 
Maine. At present the number of steamers appears to be 
adequate to the commerce of New- York ; hence we may ex- 
pect that their increase will correspond to that of the com- 
merce of the city. There are several lines which have been 
long proposed, and which I should think ought now to be in 
operation, especially these : to Galway in Ireland ; to Genoa 
and other Mediterranean ports ; and to Rio Janeiro. 



CHAPTER XXYIII. 



CONCLUSION. 



Reader, as we are about to separate, and probably for ever, 
each to go in a different direction, a word or two at parting. 

"When I commenced these glimpses I had no thought of 
extending them to such a length, yet in many instances I 
may have even now left the work half finished. If I have 
failed to do the subject justice or to interest you, it has not 
been the fault of the subject, but the jjejicil There is no 
place to which I have direcred your attention, but that is 
strikingly interesting to the visitor. 

Every character which I have alluded to in these glimpses, 
is a real one, and it may be relied upon, that each incident 
is taken, and related precisely as it occurred, without any 
metaphorical, allegorical, hyperbolical, or rhetorical flourish 
whatever. I have in many instances used the real name 
and places of residence of my characters, simply because the 
truth would not injure or affect those alluded to in any way, 
and because the reality suited my purpose best. For in- 
stance, the allusion to Mr, Draper, was made not out of ill- 
will or derision, but because every body knows his history 
and his mental acumen, and would see instantly how to draw 
a comparison. He is a very honest snob, but fills the char- 
acter. 



CONCLUSION. 215 

There are many other places which I might have taken 
you to, for instance, the churches, hospitals, colleges, alms- 
houses, BlackAvell's Island, the Deaf and Dumb and Blind 
Asylums, the manufactories of the different articles made in 
New- York ; the Custom-house, the Post-office, among the 
brokers, the merchants, museums and other places of amuse- 
ment ; to the nunnery, picture-galleries, to houses of ill- 
fame, &c., &c. But this was unnecessary, as these places 
are alike in all cities. My object has been to show up the 
peculiar features of the leading city of the New World in 
such a manner as not only to amuse, but instruct. To point 
the finger of ridicule at folly, as well as to raise my feeble 
voice against crime and vice. Whether I have done so ef- 
fectually remains to be seen. 

If I have by any thing herein said or done offended the 
least of God's creatures, I humbly ask forgiveness. If I 
have either directly or indirectly thwarted one sinful act or 
given one ray of light to a single individual, I am amply 
repaid. 

Now, Col., I shall take you by the hand to bid you, too, 
farewell ; yet not for ever, but for a short season. If I have 
contributed any thing towards rendering your visit to Go- 
tham pleasing or instructive, I have only done my duty to a 
friend. If I have failed, I feel that you have the charity to 
take the will for the deed. 

Again to both, as Jehu said unto Jehonadab, " If thy 
heart be as right with thy God, as mine is with thine, give 
me thy hand," and as I shake, permit me to add, ma}^ kind 
Heaven shower her blessings upon you both and all mankind, 
as thick as the manna fell upon the Israelites while passing 
through the wilderness. 

THE END. 



|Llrbn"tisnneut» 



THE AUTIIOll ANNOUNCES THAT HI3 NEXT "WORK, ENTITLED, 



THE PLEASIJEES OF A PILGEIM; 

OK, 

a IrtttiniHital §nnrnnt tlirnngl; \\}t HnitA ItatBS; 



WILL BE PUBLISHED IN A FEW MONTHS. 
Nov. 15tll, 1852. 



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